Full text of "The Repository of arts, literature, commerce, manufactures, fashions and politics"

See other formats

LIBRARY

OF THE

PHILADELPHIA

MUSEUM

OF ART

Sis.^

I WM

SCM tOSS Bj S . :OTH£K

THE

Beposttorp

ARTS, LITERATURE, FASHIONS,

Manufactures, §c.

—■MB

THE THIRD SERIES.

Vol. III.

January 1, 1824.

N°XIII.

EMBELLISHMENTS.

I. View of the Princess Elizabeth's Cottage, Old Windsor
Stoke-Farm, the Seat of the Earl of Sefton

Ladies' Morning Dress

Promenade Dress

A Study Bookcase and Medal Cabinet .

CONTENTS.

TAGE

MISCELLANIES.

iews of Country Seats. — Princess Eli-

zabeth's CottBge, Old Windsor . .

Loke-Farm, the Seat of the Earl of
Sefton

hictuations in the Fashion of Hats

he Old Bachelor's Closet-Window . .
Toujours Fidtle," a Sketch of French
Society •

(host Stories. No. IV. — The Illumi-
nated Church at Neisse, in Silesia . .

ccount of the Harmony Society, in the
United States of America ....

temarks on the Preservation of the Po-
pular Traditions of the Gael . . .
he Exploits at Savendroog ....

l Christmas Party. — The Dinner . .

'he Shops of Paris .... ...

Mctnre of a Norwegian Bishop . . .

jioyal Occupations in the Sixteenth Cen-

i tury

isbon and the Portuguese, extracted
from Letters written in 1821 and 1822

MUSICAL REVIEW.
PIANO-FORTE.

valkrrenner's Effusio Musica . . .

Mayseder's Divertimento

Xiallmark's Cramer's Serenata . . .
M'Murdif.'s " The Lisle," a French

j March

PIANO-FORTE VARIATIONS.
Herz's Variations to " Ma Fanchette est

i charmante"

Mazzinghi's "Scots wha' hae' wi' Wallace

I bled"

(Nightingale's " Let us haste to Kelvin

I Grove"

Caraffa's Air ....

PACK
. 1

. %

. 55
. 56
. 59

F-AGE

VOCAL COMPOSITIONS.

Vocal Anthology. Part VII 52

Morlachi's " Ah qual Concento" . . 53

Castelli's " In quel modesto Asilo" . ib.

German Songs. No III ib.

Boch<sa's " 'Tis not the beam of a lan-
guishing eye" ". . ib.

Kiallmark's " The Seaboy's Call" . .- 54

Monro's " Send round the rosy cup" . ib.

Davy's " Can I forget" ib.

HARP.

Bochsa's " La Chasse au Renard" . . ib.

Potter's " Cruda Sorte" ib.

Bochsa's Grand Russian March
Dussek's " We're a noddin" .

Second French Air

GUITAR.
Caeumi's Forty easy Pieces .

ib.
55
ib.

ib.

Portraits of Rossini and Moscheles

FASHIONS.

London Fashions. — Ladies' Morning

Dress ib.

Ladies' Promenade Dress 56

General Observations on Fashion and

Dress ib.

French Female Fashions 58

Fashionable Furniture. --AStudy Book-
case and Medal Cabinet 59

INTELLIGENCE,

LITERARY AND SCIENTIFIC . . ib.
Royal Academy ' .... 60

POETRY.

Lints addressed to Bernard Barton
(from " Time's Telescope") . • . . 61

Expostulation: Addressed to Bernard
Barton (from the same) ..... 62

LONDON :

PRINTED FOR, AND PUBLISH F.D BY, R. ACKERMANN, 101, STRAND}

To whom Comnumications (post-paid) are requested to be addressed.

L- Harrison, Printer, ;»7;>, Strand.

TO READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS.

Publishers, Authors, Artists, and Musical Composers, arc requested lo transmit,
on or before the 1 5th of the month, Announcements of Works which they may hate on
hand, and we shall cheerfully insert them, as we have hitherto done, free of expense.
New Musical Publications also, if a copy be addressed to the Publisher, shall be duly
noticed in our Review ; and Extracts front new Books, of a moderate length and of an
interesting nature, suitable for our Selections, wilt be acceptable.

We shall be happy to receive the commencement of the correspondence mentioned
by T. and have no doubt that it would prove very acceptable ; but until we arcfuvourcd
with a specimen, we cannot, of course, pledge ourselves for its insertion.

We regret that the continuation of the Confessions of a Rambler did not reacm
our hands till after the making-tip of the present Number, which, on account of the
holidays, took place at an earlier period of the month than usual. Owing to tktsaim
cause, the appearance of several other communications has been necessarily deferred,

Persons who reside abroad, and who wish to be supplied with this Work every Month a<
published, may have it sent to them, free of Postage, to New-York, Halifax, Quebec, aiu
to any part of the West Indies, at £4 12s. per Annum, by Air. Thornhiu., of the Genera
Post-Office, at No. 21, Sherborne-Jane; to Hamburgh, Lisbon, Cadiz, Gibraltar, Malta, ol
any Part of the Mediterranean, at £4 12s. per Annum, by Mr. Serjeant, of the General
Post-Office, at No. 22, Sherborne-lane ; and to the Cape of Good Hope, or any part of the
East Indies, by Mr. Guy, at the East-India House. The money to be paid at the time of
subscribing, for either 3, 6, 9, or 12 months.

This Work may also be had of 3Iessrs. Aubon and Khaj', Rotterdam.

;-i
:

THE

3&eposttorp

ARTS, LITERATURE, FASHIONS,

Manufactures^ 8$c.

THE THIRD SERIES.

Vol. III.

January 1, 1824.

N°- XIII.

VIEWS OF COUNTRY-SEATS.

princess Elizabeth's cottage, old windsok.

In the immediate vicinity of Old
Windsor church is situated this ele-
gant cottage, the Garden - Front of
which is represented in the annexed
engraving. Its unpresuming and pic-
turesque appearance, combined with
the beauty of its situation, would
alone have rendered it worth notice;
but when to this is added, its being
so long the occasional residence of
the Princess Elizabeth (now Duchess
of Hesse-Homburg), it becomes pecu-
liarly interesting. It was here she
delighted in diffusing around that
exquisite taste for the arts in which
she so much excelled.

The ground belonging to this cot-
tage is very limited ; but the useful
is nevertheless so admirably blended
with the agreeable, that it is defici-
ent h> nothing that a summer resi-
dence of this nature requires. It is
Vol, HI. No. XIII.

surrounded by some noble trees, fine
in form and richly luxuriant in foli-
age, imparting a sequestered feeling
to this pretty spot, that well accords
with its immediate neighbourhood;
and now that the fair owner, who che-
rished its beauties and gave a soul to
the rural scene, has removed to other
climes, this retired spot appears the
emblem only of happier days. The
reality is gone, perchance never to
return. A pensive stillness now re-
poses over the scene, broken only by
the native notes of the feathered
songsters, that here undisturbed pro-
long their stay, or the footsteps of
the occasional visitor. In spite of
the wild luxuriance that now pervades
the garden, which forms what may
be termed a lawn and pleasure-
ground, and notwithstanding the
evident want of care, strong indica-
B

STOKK-FAKM.

tions still remain of the superior mind
that once reigned over it. The view
from the principal apartments em-
braces this sweet little lawn, filled
with luxuriant flowering shrubs,
bounded on the one side by trees
and shrubs of a powerful growth, in-
termixed with the holly and the rose,
that finely group with the sombre
tints of the evergreens. On the
other side is seen, beneath some fine
elms, the silvery Thames winding its
silent way. A sequestered walk of
singular beauty, formed by the over-
hanging wood, leads to it wicket that
communicates with Grove - House,
the property and occasional residence
of the Princess at the time she held
the cottage. It is a pretty monastic
edifice, standing on the verge of Old
Windsor church-yard.

In our Repository for March of
last year, we had occasion to notice
many ingenious works, with some ori-
ginal designs of great merit, at Frog-
more, by the Princess Elizabeth.
Among others, is a classical work,
" The Power and Progress of Ge-
nius," consisting of a series of etch-
ings by herself, and dedicated to her

Majesty. The dedication is so pleas-
ing, and speaks so much, that we
cannot do better than conclude the
article with it.

" The etchings that are now laid at
your Majesty's feet would never have
1 been executed, if many of those who
! looked over the drawings had not wished
them to be published : but that, my dear-
est mother, you will see was impossible ;
for it would have opened a door to much
criticism, which in every situation is un-
pleasant, and particularly in ours. I
therefore undertook to do them myself,
as they might then pass unnoticed, and
protected in the pleasantest manner to
me by one whose affections would kindly
pardon the faults of the head of the in-
ventor — I trust those of the heart will
never be known by you, as its first wish
has ever been to prove grateful for those
talents which you have so tenderly fos-
tered and improved; and if they meet
the approbation of those friends who
will have them, believe me I shall feel
that the merit will be less mine than
yours, who have occasioned them to be
brought forward. I remain, with the
greatest respect, your dutiful and affec-
tionate daughter, " Elizabeth."

STOKE-FARM,

THE SEAT OF THE EARL OF SEFTON.

Tins charming residence may be
truly termed a ferine ornte. Its si-
tuation is favourable, and nature has
been so far only assisted as to permit
its natural beauties to spread over
the demesne in uninterrupted ease.
The woods, shrubberies, and gar-
dens, immediately about the house,
are so judiciously arranged as to
present many interesting points of
view; laying the house partially open
to the south, and screening it com-
pletely to the north and east, on

which side the offices are situated
and planted out, with the exception
of some portions, that add to the ge-
neral effect of the entire scene.

Our View is of the Front from the
lawn, on which side are some of the
principal apartments, elegantly fitted
up, the windows extending to the
floor, forming door-ways, that open
beneath a spacious verandah, along
which flowering shrubs twine in rich
luxuriance, exhibiting, when seen
from the apartments, natural festoons

FLUCTUATIONS IN THE FASHION OF HATS.

of the richest colours. The lawn in
front is so judiciously laid out with
evergreens intermixed with deciduous
shrubs, that the greater portion is
embellished with rich foliage in the
winter season : combined with the
verandah, or rather corridor, it forms
a pleasing winter walk.

Here is a small park of about forty
acres, through which there is a plea-
sant drive to the lodge, which is
pretty and chaste. It is rendered
pleasing by the deep thatched roof,
which, overhanging the dwelling,
forms a pretty rustic colonnade. The

supports are unbarked stems of trees,
around which grow the rose and the
jessamine.

The estate was purchased by the
late Lord Sefton of a Mr. Johnson.
The house was then a mere farm,
but served as an occasional resi-
dence. The whole of the alterations,
both in the house and grounds, have
been effected by the present noble
owner ; and they have been guided
by such taste and judgment, that
Stoke-Farm now forms as delightful
a retreat as can be desired.

FLUCTUATIONS IN THE FASHION OF HATS.

TO THE EDITOR, Sfc.

Sin,

So much has been said and
written by you lords of the creation,
to shew that women are incessantly
changing the fashion of their clothes,
that one would imagine your own
modes were really stationary ; that is
to say, in ancient times, for certainly
the beaux of the present day alter
the shape of their garments nearly,
if not quite, as often as the belles;
and I believe, if we were inclined to
do you the favour you have so often
done us, that is, to trace the changes
in your dress for some centuries back,
they would be found to have been as
frequent as our own. As I have a
great deal of leisure, and also some
taste for these researches, I shall
perhaps some time or other give the
public an account of the various
changes which have taken place in
male costume during the last thou-
sand years or so. I have already
commenced this grand undertaking,
and, beginning with the covering for
the head, I have traced the various
forms of the hat for more than eight

hundred years. I have commenced
of course with France, because, as
every body knows, that sprightly
nation has led the modes since Eu-
rope first emerged from barbarism,
it would be an injustice not to give
her the preference. I have com-
pressed this beginning of my under-
taking into as brief a space as possi-
ble, for the purpose of offering it to
your acceptance, since I am desirous
to see what reception it will meet
with from the public, before I set
about completing my voluminous un-
dertaking. By inserting this sketch,
Mr. Editor, you will give my work a
fair chance ; and as a recompence for
your politeness, I shall have the ho-
nour of dedicating it to you, as soon
as it makes its appearance in at least
twenty-five volumes folio. I am, sir,
your constant reader and very hum-
ble servant,

Tehentia Thacemode.

chateau.
The first covering that we find re-
gularly used for the head by the
B 2

FLUCTUATIONS IN THE FASHION OF HATS.

French was called chaperon; it
seems to have been a kind of hood
attached to the robe, and ornament-
ed with a very long tail. Some whim-
sical people took a fancy to roll this
tail round their heads; a fashion
which did not meet with general ap-
probation, and which was the cause
that the tail was retrenched altoge-
ther.

As those elegans who had a fancy
for the queue were determined not
to wear chaperons without them,
they invented a new kind of head-
dress for themselves,which was known
by the appellation of bonnet, and
which differed from the chaperon on-
ly in the height, each being made of
the same material, which were cloths
of different kinds and velvet. It
could be thrown back by means of
strings. We see models of these
head-dresses in the coats of arms of
cardinals, archbishops, and bishops.

In a little time the bonnet assumed
a new form and a new name : it was
called barrette, because of the seams
which divided it into compartments.

When a foreign clergyman is pro-
moted to the rank of cardinal, it is
said that the pope has given him the
cardinal's hat; but in reality it is the
cap or barrette, which his holiness
sends to the sovereign from whose
dominion the cardinal is chosen. A
cardinal can receive the hat only from
the hands of the pope himself.

About the year 1 180, in the reign
of Philip Augustus, an alteration
took place in the form of the bonnet,
which then began to be worn with a
brim all round.

Louis IX. (St. Louis) introduced
the fashion of hats with large brims
turned up.

Philip III. (the Bold) brought in
the fashion of wearing a large calotte,

that is, a kind of skull-cap, with a
very small-brimmed hat placed on
one side.

What may be properly called the
chapeau bras was first introduced
into France in the reign of Charles
le Bel: they were composed of felt,
and carried in the hand.

The form of the hat under Philip
de Valois is exactly similar to that
of the English coal-porter's hat of
the present day: its large brim was
turned up in front, and was attached
to the dress behind.

In the year 1341, three different
sorts of hats were worn, under the
names of chaperons, bonnets, and cha-
peaux.

Under Jean II. (the Good) the
crown of the hat was very high, and
the brim extremely small. Some of
these hats were ornamented with fea-
thers.

Until the time of Charles V. hats
had been vised only by distinguished
people, but in his reign they became
common.

The hat of Charles VI. was of the
helmet form.

Twenty years afterwards we find
that the brim of the hat was cut in
points.

Henri le Bon, the Duke of Anjou,
generally wore a bonnet; Louis XI.
his uncle, wore a very small-brimmed
felt hat, over a large calotte. The
chapeau in the days of Charles VIII.
was ornamented with a panache.

The head-dress of Louis XII. was
a cap, the top of which was almost
flat, and trimmed with fur. The
lords of the court wore caps or hats
with high crowns, and brims more or
less broad, but always turned up.

Francis I. introduced the singular
fashion of adorning the brim of the
hat with the coat of arms of the

FLUCTUATIONS IN THE FASHION OF HATS.

wearer. The crown was decorated
with a large plume of feathers.

During the reigns of Henry II.
Francis Il.Charles IX. and Henry III.
the chapeau was displaced by toques
of different forms : this mode is said
to have been borrowed from the Ita-
lians.

Henry IV. wore a high-crowned
hat with a small flat brim. This fa-
shion was then in use among the
Spaniards.

A great change took place in the
form of the hat under Louis XIII.;
the crown was extremely low, and the
brim very large: it was worn on one
side.

This fashion was too simple to suit
the pompous taste of Louis XIV. :
he elevated the crown, and had the
brim turned up before and behind.
Shortly afterwards he introduced the
fashion of the cocked hat, with the
button and loop on the left side, so
long prevalent all over Europe, and
still used in full dress.

Who could have expected to find
on the hats of the petits-maitres of
those days, an ornament named after
the most popular preacher of his
time ? But so it was : the zeal and
eloquence of the celebrated Bourda-
loue made him the fashion ; nothing
else was talked of or thought of: ne-
vertheless it was very difficult to find
any thing about the man of God
which could be dragged into the ser-
vice of la mode. However, the Pa-
risians were determined to call some
part of their dress after him ; at last
they gave his name to a narrow black
band which encircled the crown of
the hat, and from that time nobody
was seen without a Bourdaloue. But
this ornament soon lost its original
simplicity; it was worn in gold, and

twisted many times round the crown
of the hat.

During the reign of Louis XIV.
the hat was always carried under the
arm : it was never placed upon the
head, because it would have disar-
ranged the enormous wig, full curled
and powdered, which was an indis-
pensable appendage to the fine gen-
tleman of that day.

After the death of Louis XIV.
wigs a la rcgence began to be fa-
shionable. The fore-top of this wig
was flat, and consequently a hat
might be put on without inconveni-
ence. At that period the brims of
hats began to be edged with a nar-
row gold or silver binding.

Until the middle of Louis XV.'s
reign, the brim of the hat was worn
turned up and very narrow. The
military got tired of this fashion ;
they soon passed to the other ex-
treme by enlarging the brim enor-
mously.

These large hats were not adopted
by magistrates nor physicians, nor in
short by any of those professions to
whose costume a well curled and pow-
dered wig had been considered in-
dispensable. The danger to which
these gentlemen exposed themselves
in going about in the coldest wea-
ther without hats, made the jokers
of those times say, that they valued
their lives less than their wigs.

In 1 76*0, the shape of the fashion-
able hat was borrowed from the cha-
peau called ramponneau, worn by
the alehouse-keepers of Paris: this
hat had the front corner larger than
either of the others.

Some years afterwards the hat
took an oblong form : this was called
the chapeau a la Suisse.

The French had a kind of mania

TltF, OLD nACIIELORS CLOSF,T-MrINDOW.

for every thing that was American
during the war between that country
and Great Britain, and this mania
introduced into France in 1778 the
round hat, called chapeau a la Bos-
tonnienne.

The jockey hats were also round,
but with large brims. In 1783, the
crown of the hat was formed quite
round, and it took the name of cha-
peau au ballon, from the then novel
invention of the balloon.

In 178G, a hat with three short
corners came into favour, and kept

its place for eight years. In 1790,
the crown of the hat became nar-
rower at the bottom than the top.
In 1794, it resumed its old form,
which in 1795 it lost, to take that of
the reverse of a broken cone.

From that time, the form of the
French hat has changed as often as
that of the French bonnet, and the
alterations have consequently been
too numerous to come within the
compass of my present sketch.

T. T.

THE OLD BACHELOR'S CLOSET-WINDOW

There is after all something in
that sort of malady half real, half
imaginary, which the French call en-
nui: till now I regarded it as the off-
spring of an enervated body and an
ill-directed mind. I cannot admit
this to be my own case ; and yet I
feel those tormenting imps, vulgarly
yclept blue devils, amply revenging
on me, by the horrors they inflict at
this moment, the doubts I have so of-
ten expressed of their existence. How
shall I get rid of them? Suppose I
try to write — but what? I am too lit-
tle of a savant to treat of scientific
matters. Light sketches then? It
will not do, I have no turn for badi-
nage. Moral essays? Worse and
worse, nobody would read them. My
own history? It is a blank. What
then can I write? I have it: my clo-
set-window will furnish me with some-
thing. When we write or speak on a
subject that we like, we are always
eloquent: let me see then whether
I shall not be able to make something
of my closet-window.

For the first forty years of my life
I looked for happiness to my fellow-
creatures ; I was often disappointed,

but disappointment did not extinguish
hope, and I consoled myself for each
failure, with the thought that my
next essay would be more successful.
At last the moment came when the
phantom that I had so long pursued
vanished for ever, and I derived from
the wreck of all my hopes only the
knowledge, that he who trusts to his
fellow-creatures for happiness leans
upon a broken reed. The lesson
was bitter but salutary, though it was
long ere I could profit by it. The
time at length came when I could
bring myself to look at the resources
my Creator had given me, and to
bless him in humble thankfulness for
the means of finding, if not happi-
ness, at least content.

Years have now passed since I
placed my comforts within a narrow
bound : my books, my walks, the ca-
resses of my faithful dog, and the at-
tachment of my old servant, these
are helps to soften the tedium of life ;
but perhaps a still greater is my clo-
set-window. It is there that I find
the grand stimulus of existence ; it is
through it that I am enabled to ex-
ercise the only power we ought to

THE OLD BACHELORS CLOSET-WINDOW.

covet in this world, that of doing
good. My reader, whoever he may
chance to be, will smile when he is
told, that the only prospect my clo-
set-window affords, is a garret inha-
bited by the meanest class of people,
and that for the last fifteen years of
my life I have devoted some portion
of every day to watch their motions.
But before he condemns what he
will call my folly, let him look at
his own pursuits: he might perhaps
be worse employed than in watch-
ing his poor neighbours with a view
to assist their necessities, if their con-
duct deserved it. Oh ! what a les-
son might the proud, the dissipated,
the unfeeling, and the avaricious re-
ceive, if, like me, they daily viewed
human misery without disguise!

Sunday. — It is three weeks to-day
since I have been able to take my
usual walk, and for a fortnight of
that time, the garret, my grand re-
source, has been untenanted. I have
heard of a man who found the hor-
rors of captivity softened by watch-
ing the motions of a neighbouring
mouse, and when it disappeared, he
solaced himself by the hope of soon
seeing another. It is with feelings
somewhat similar to this poor cap-
tive's, that I look from the window
of my closet for the arrival of a new
tenant in the opposite garret. As
to the scenes that I have witnessed,
I scarcely know, now that my moment-
aiy fit of authorship has in part sub-
sided, how to portray them. The
miseries of the poor are, alas! wide-
ly different from those scenes of fan-
cied woe on which the imagination
delights to dwell. " Ah, Peter ! what,
a new-comer to-morrow, do you say ?
Let us see then to-morrow what For-
tune will send us."

Monday. — Ah! there is a tenant

indeed! and such a creature! Who
in heaven's name can she be? Grace-
ful, interesting, so young too, for she
seems scarcely seventeen, and yet
already the bloom of youth and health
appears extinct. My window is so
placed that I could see her without
being myself discovered. It is evi-
dent that she was not born to inhabit
a garret ; and at her age what can
have reduced her to it ? Can it be a
lapse from chastity ? Fie upon the
uncharitable idea! She looks too pure
to deserve the suspicion.

Ten at night. — I do not know that
I ever returned to the window so of-
ten as this day, and I am afraid my
doubts were too well founded. This
girl has done nothing all day but
write a letter : that has a bad look,
doubly a bad look, because there was
something in her covering her face
with her hand after she had finished
it, and in the quick and hurried step
with which she paced her room when
she had sealed it, that more than
half persuaded me she is not what I
hoped.

Tuesday. — I believe I am an un-
charitable old fellow after all. She
has been busy this morning in put-
ting her miserable apartment in or-
der, and afterwards she sat down to
read : from the appearance of the
book, and the seriousness of her de-
meanour, I think it must have been
a prayer-book. That looks well : but
why does not she work?

Poor girl, the sight of her dinner
has completely spoiled mine — a crust
of bread and a glass of water. In-
nocent or guilty, I must come to her
assistance; at all events I can pre-
vent her plunging deeper into vice.
I could knock my brains out for ever
harbouring a thought to this girl's
disadvantage : my life for it, she will

THE OLD BACHELORS CLOSET-WINDOW.

come like gold out of the fire. Just
as I bad written the above, and was
going from the window, I turned to
take another peep at her : I saw her
start — nay, I could almost fancy I
heard her scream at the entrance of
a fashionable-looking puppy. Oh!
how I regretted that I could not
hear as well as see from my closet-
window ! But their gestures were suf-
ficiently expressive; there was no
misunderstanding them. I fancied I
could hear every word the handsome
rascal said as he talked to her in an
attitude of the most earnest entreaty:
at last he knelt, and she — oh ! what
a beautiful scorn there was in the
air with which she repulsed him! He
pointed to the miserable meal which
his presence prevented her from fi-
nishing: yes, yes, no doubt he con-
trasted it with the dainties which she
might purchase at the price of infamy.

What would I give for a picture
of her at this moment, as she stands
with a calm severity of aspect, that
speaks more than volumes of re-
proach ? Ah ! he offers her a purse !
O heaven! she pauses. No, poor
girl, I wronged her — it was but to
give vent to her tears. She has sot
rid of the scoundrel. How dignified
she looked as she held the door open
for him to leave the room ! 'Tis well
the puppy went, or old as I am, I
believe I should have set scandal at
defiance by going and turning him
out. I must get my trusty Mrs.
Meanwell to go immediately to this
girl; my Peter would be too clumsy
a blockhead to be employed in re-
lieving her.

Wkdn esday. — How provoking !
Where can this girl be ? She must
have gone out early this morning,
and she is not yet returned, though
it is near ten, and I expect Mrs.

Meanwell every moment. More vexa-
tion ! the good woman is in the coun-
try, and wont return for some days.

Twelve o'clock, and no sign. Yes,
there she is at the end of the street,
tripping lightly along with a bundle.
What does she turn back for? Good
girl, it was to assist a poor blind man
in crossing. I hug myself on hav-
ing found a treasure.

She must have been abroad in
search of needle-work, for she has
been sewing all day. I took several
peeps at her, but found her con-
stantly employed.

Eight in the evenhg. — She has had
a female visitor, a well-dressed wo-
man, who staid with her a long time.
I know not why, but I have taken a
dislike to this woman; a causeless
one it must be, for there was nothing
in her appearance to inspire it, and
she seemed to regard the girl with
much kindness : but yet there was
something, at least I fancied so, that
did not appear natural in her man-
ner. She was too caressing ; and the
poor girl appeared to think so too,
for I observed her shrink from the
woman several times as she took her
hand. After all, I am afraid I dis-
like her only because I think she has
anticipated me; for I saw her give this
young thing money, and the girl took
it with an air of modesty and thank-
fulness. I suppose by that she will
not be long my neighbour, but I must
find out where she goes to.

If I did not know myself secure
against the power of love, I should
be afraid that even the frost of age
had not defended my heart against
this girl's attractions. I must find a
name for her till I can learn her own.
Suppose I call her Pamela ? I think
it is applicable to her situation. Very
well, her name shall be Pamela.

THE OLD BACHELORS CLOSET-WINDOW.

Thursday.—* What a fool have I
been to place any reliance on the
virtue of a woman ! The girl is naught,
stark naught. Oh ! what a damning
proof has she given me that deceit
is the unalienable inheritance of wo-
man ! With all her seeming innocence,
she has turned out the veriest wan-
ton: but I will be methodical. This
morning while I was looking at her
at work, I saw a shabby-looking young
man come into her room : no sooner
did she see him, than flinging down
her work, she flew into his arms with
evident transport. Then seating her-
self by his side, with both her hands
in his, she listened to him with such
looks of tenderness ; and presently
springing up, she ran to a drawer,
and took out a purse : no doubt it
contained the money which she re-
ceived yesterday. The fellow made
a show of refusal, but she would not
be refused; she forced it into his
hand, which she held clasped in her
own, and pressed it to her lips. Her
paramour thanked her with an em-
brace. At that moment the guilty
pair were startled by a knocking at
the door; it was plain enough from
the gestures of the fellow that he
was afraid of being seen, but his mis-
tress soon found a hiding-place: she
crammed him into a closet, or rather
cupboard, where one would suppose
you could hardly have hid a cat.
Unfortunate creature ! so young and
so depraved ! Yet she is not harden-
ed, for there was a guilty confusion
in her air as she seated her visitor,
who was the same lady that had been
with her yesterday. She did not
stay many minutes, to my great dis-
appointment, for I should have wish-
ed the fellow to have been half smo-
thered at least. He hastened away
Vol HI. No. XIII.

directly afterwards, no doubt to
spend the money which he had ob-
tained from the unfortunate wicked
girl.

Four o'clock. — How is this? That
woman has returned, and seems to
be talking angrily to Pamela, who is
in tears. What paper can it be that
she offers her, which the other so
indignantly refuses? Oh! she evi-
dently threatens her! What an ex-
pression of insolent vulgarity there
is in her gestures and demeanour!
She goes out slapping the door with
violence — Hold! she is returned, but
evidently to no purpose. W'hat can
be the reason of this change in her
behaviour? Has she discovered the
unfortunate creature's guilt? But that
cannot be : there was nothing in her
manner that marked a virtuous in-
dignation; her gestures were those
of a vulgar scold.

Fuiday. — To-morrow Meanwell
returns, and I am heartily glad of it ;
for I know not why, but I cannot re-
solve to resign this unfortunate crea-
ture to her fate. She has been at
her needle all clay, but it was evident
that she often laid down her work to
weep.

Saturday. — I don't know what to
make of this : there are two ill-look-
ing fellows, I am sure they are bai-
liffs, sauntering up and down, and
looking very often at Pamela's win-
dow. What, can that be the woman
who visits Pamela speaking to them?
It surely is ; but she can never mean
to arrest the unfortunate girl? By
heaven, she does though, for the
whole three have just entered the
house ! No, bad as the unfortunate
girl is, she shall not be dragged to
prison!

You sha'n't hinder me, you little
C

THE OLD BACHELOR'S CLOSET-WIXDOW.

witch! I must write, I must finish
the first sketch I have ever made
from my closet-window. Yes, my
dear reader, you shall know what
happened after I flung down my pen,
and darted across the way with an
agility, which made my man Peter,
who followed close at my heels, hless
himself. I arrived at the very mo-
ment that the catchpoles had laid
their hands on the horror-struck
girl. " What is your demand on
this young woman?" said I to the
bailiff, who looked at his employer,
and she darted a fiend-like glance at
me, while she replied, " The young-
woman and I can settle the matter
without your interference." — " Oh !
no, sir! no, indeed I will have nothing
to do with that woman, I would ra-
ther go to prison!" — " You have
then borrowed money from this wo-
man?"— " To be sure she has." —
" No, I have not; I thought it was
given to me." — " You knew well
enough on what terms it was given,"
cried the procuress, who now, exas-
perated at seeing herself on the point
of losing her prey, thought she had
no measures to keep; and it was not
without threats of punishment that I
at length compelled her to receive
her money, and leave me with the
weeping girl, whom she pronounced
to be well calculated to dupe an old
fool like me.

I have already told you that my
closet-window has procured me some
pleasant moments, but all the good
I have ever derived from it was no-
thing compared to this. No wonder
I could not look on the poor Sophia —
Pamela now no more — without find-
ing my heart drawn to her; but in
order that you may know, good read-
er, why it was drawn, you and I
must be a little better acquainted.

I have said, that during the first
forty years of my life, I looked to
my fellow-creatures for happiness;
the last and bitterest disappointment
I experienced from them, was in the
conduct of my only sister, who was
to me in place of a daughter, for she
was twenty years younger than my-
self. She was courted by a liber-
tine, who I knew would render her
miserable; I told her so, she disbe-
lieved me, and ran away with him. I
renounced her in the first moments
of my anger, and before my unbro-
therly resentment had subsided, she
died in giving birth to a girl. Her
death in extinguishing my resent-
ment renewed my affection. I would
have taken her children, for she left
also a son, who was five years old at
the time of her decease ; but her hus-
band nQt only refused to hold com-
munion with me, but took his chil-
dren abroad, in order to avoid me,
nor did I ever learn their fate.

Alas! it was indeed a hard one!
Neglected by their father, who con-
sumed his substance in brutal riot,
their childhood and their youth were
alike deprived of the advantages and
the pleasures to which they were en-
titled. The ill health and ruined
fortunes of their father brought him
at last to a sense of his injustice to
his children, but it was when the
power of making reparation for it
was no more. His death separated
the orphans. Sophia accepted a si-
tuation nsj'emme de chambre to a la-
dy ; while her brother Edward, trust-
ing for a subsistence to his pen, in-
dulged his fancy with the hope of
soon sharing with her the competence
which he trusted his exertions would
procure. He was unsuccessful, and
but for the scanty earnings of his
sister, must have wanted bread. For-

T0UJ0UI15 FIDIX!;," &C.

tune had not yet exhausted her ma-
lice ; the beauty of Sophia captivated
the libertine husband of her lady :
she quitted his family to escape his
importunities, but the wretch, finding
her inaccessible to temptation, hoped
to conquer her by terror. The vile
woman from whose hands I rescued
her was his agent; she had intro-
duced herself to the unsuspecting
girl, whom she offered to take into
her service, and insisted upon giving
her ten pounds to provide necessa-
ries. No sooner had she obtained
a confession that the money was dis-
posed of, than she thought herself
sure of her prey ; but at the mo-
ment in which she hoped to grasp it,
Providence sent to the aid of the de-
solate girl the only relation she had
who possessed at once the power
and the will to help her.

When this female fiend left the
room, the poor weeping girl raised
her eyes with such a look of pious
thankfulness to heaven, that nothing
short of the evidence of my own
senses could have made me believe
her guilty. " I know all," cried I,
interrupting her as she began to
thank me, " I have seen all, seen
you in the arms of your gallant." —

" My gallant?" — " Yes, him whom
you caressed so fondly only two days
back, whom you hid in a closet; to

whom you even gave " — "What!

my brother?"

" Your brother! My God, is it
possible?"

" Indeed it is most true : only hear
me."

I did hear. O heaven, with what
delight I heard a tale that convinced
me I was no longer an isolated being!
Need I say that the misfortunes of
those poor children are at an end,
and that in spite of my declaration
of never looking to any human being
for happiness, I cannot help fancying
that they will gild the last days of
my life ? I am now going with them
to reside in the country ; but I shall
not have a closet-window, for two
reasons: first, I see by my last ad-
venture, that whatever views we may
take of the actions of our fellow-
creatures, we never can feel con-
vinced that our judgment has not
been deceived by appearances; se-
condly, I shall now have an almoner,
to whose good sense and tenderness
of heart I can trust more confidently
than to my own eyes, or to my closet-
window.

" TOU JOURS FIDELE;"

A SKETCH OF FRENCH SOCIETY.

I have ever considered society in
France as in a state of great demo-
ralization: how should it be otherT
wise? So lately emerged from a re-
volution in which all the bad passions
of the soul have been untied and
given as it were to the winds, we can- i
not hope that the nicer distinctions of
moral restraint should there be re- ,
garded with much reverence: hence i
those social ties which to our minds

form the great charm of life, are little
appreciated; and provided the tide
of pleasure but continues to flow, the
consequences of dissipation and in-
discretion are comparatively unheed-
ed. Far be it from me to imagine,
that goodness or virtue is exclusively
to be found amongst ourselves ; I am
sure it is not so, but that every coun-
try possesses its portion of good or
evil: vet it cannot be denied, that the
C 2

TOUJOUUS FIDELE

great mass of the French people are
contaminated by a spirit of gallantry
and intrigue, become so general from
example and long practice, that, in a
greater or less degree, it pervades
every breast, from the prince down
to the humble peasant. In fact, to |
be deficient in this kind of feeling, or I
backward in exercising it, would but
gain a man the appellation of a stu-
pid sort of fellow, who knows but lit-
tle of the world.

I need scarcely observe that it is
not an uncommon thing for a French-
woman, whether married or single,
to have a lover, and to regard a con-
nection of this nature without the
least remorse or compunctious visit-
ing of conscience. Should chance
discover her amours, and force her
to quit the circle in which she once
moved, and where she enjoyed the
reputation of being virtuous, she
does not consider such discovery as
a great drawback on her happiness;
she has still many resources of plea-
sure left to compensate for this mis-
fortune : she can always find a very
extensive society of females precisely
in her own situation, in which she
can yet play her part, and seek some
consolation for the rank she has emit-
ted. I mean that class of women
known as famines galantas, a class
not exactly tolerated in England,
where the moment a woman's virtue
is known to be forfeited, her stand in
society is for ever lost, where scorn
is the fruit of error, and utter seclu-
sion the only abode of tranquillity
for fallen virtue.

Not so in France ; here the mis-
tress of a prince or a duke is often
surrounded by very good society. I
know an instance of the sort, where
a married woman living with her hus-
band and family, but notoriously the

mistress of a nobleman of the first
rank, is in the habit of receiving a
great many of the fashionables of
Paris into her circle ; and it is to this
kind of society to which I allude, and
which exists to a very great extent,
that women of equivocal character
can always resort, in exchange for
those places where the observance of
nice rules of propriety has refused to
grant her any further welcome.

In this species of society, the su-
perficial observer might suppose he
stood in the midst of a temple of
chastity as well as pleasure: every
thing is here found that can charm
the ear or please the eye; a great
display of beauty, wit, and talent, and,
as may be well supposed, a very great
share of liberality of sentiment. Here
hovers the shadow of virtue though
the substance is fled; in appearance
here is every thing severity can re-
quire, decorum of conduct, refined
politeness, cultivated and polished
manners. It is to this sphere a woman
flies whose character becomes ques-
tionable; here is both a substitute
and compensation for the sacrifice
she has made ; and provided that so-
vereign disturber, ennui, does not
overtake her, provided reflection is
stifled in the busy round of pleasure,
she thinks it an indispensable duty
to leave the work of repentance for
the solitary season of old age.

This toleration of gallantry, if it
may be so termed, joined to the num-
berless difficulties which rise up in
opposition to marriage, helps to re-
move many of the scruples of the mind,
and works its corruption by almost
imperceptible means. The danger
of such society to a young female is
obvious ; the pernicious tones of gal-
lantry are breathed into her ear at
an age when the judgment cannot

A SKETCH OF FRENCH SOCIETY,

withstand the combat of the pas-
sions; she is in the midst of compa-
nions of her own sex, whose precept
and example tend to efface every
spark of moral feeling. I once over-
heard an instructive lesson given by
a more experienced adviser of her
own sex to a young lady whom an in-
discreet mother had introduced into
one of these gay circles. She* told
her young pupil, that to be loved was
the chief object of a woman's life,
and that all her cares and studies
should be directed to this end : that
if she but succeeded in reciprocally
exciting and bestowing affection but
for a period of three years, the great
object of her life was then attained,
and she might remain contented with
having had her share of happiness in
this world: that as to marriage, it
rarely happened that any couple lov-
ed each other long, in cases even
where love had been the sole object
of their union; but when a match
was formed from interest or ambition,
which was in fact the only good ex-
cuse she had ever heard for matri-
mony, it was useless to expect any
thing but perfect misery and wretch-
edness: that discord was the univer-
sal fruit of marriage ; for her part
she had experienced it, but her hus-
band was, thank God, no more, and
rather than again endure the wrang-
ling she had once suffered, she could
wish that some dreadful catastrophe
might overtake her if she was ever
guilty of a second such folly: it was
much better to be out of the world,
than suffer dissension, from which we
could not free ourselves, to embitter
and destroy life. This able instruc-
tress added, that it was far different
between a woman and her lover: that
she was bound to him by no tie but
that of affection, and whenever that

tie was dissolved, they were both at
liberty to roam where they pleased:
that true love never could exist where
the will was bound by the fetters of
wedlock.

This anathema against marriage,
thought I, and this recommendation
of intrigue, is a fit sermon to be pro-
nounced by such a mistress and in
such a place ; the lesson is likely to
have its full weight in a mind per-
haps prone to high romantic feeling;
it is a delusion Well calculated to lead
astray one who cannot yet foresee or
comprehend the result of the moral
attempted to be inculcated.

How is it possible then, if society
is thus constituted in France, to ar-
rest the progress of contamination?
A great laxity of morals, however
deplorable, must always exist; and
such circles will of course find nu-
merous advocates and supporters of
both sexes, so long as they shall con-
tinue to be a matter as well of neces-
sity as infinite gratification. Indeed
it must be confessed, it holds out
extraordinary charms to the male sex :
the fascinations of Frenchwomen do,
in spite of every thing, render them
truly amiable, with all their faults and
follies ; they possess in a superior de-
gree the art of making themselves
beloved; their seeming artlessness,
their apparent flow of soul, which,
whether it be assumed or felt, must
be acknowledged to wean us into a
fbrgetfulness, that makes time pass
delightfully in their company; their
classical elegance and taste of cos-
tume ; their very forms, serried so as
to approach closely to statuary beau-
ty ; their gracefulness, their chit-chat,
their little flatteries and caresses, are
all sufficient to unbend the resolution
of the most hardened stoic. Certain
it is, that if sin is to be pardoned in

" TOUJOUKS FIDCLK;"

tile next world, only a Frenchwoman
dare plead its forgiveness.

Chance introduced me to the fa-
mily of , one of the old noblesse,

whose house was the rendezvous of
this class of French nobility, who it
must be confessed bear about them
the marks of good-breeding and true
politeness. The marquis had been
an emigrant during the revolution,
but the restoration of the Bourbons
had given him back part of his pa-
trimonial possessions, and enabled
him to exhibit that share of style and
elegance, which both suited his rank
and evinced his good taste. His wife
was a lady, who, though advanced in
years, still retained all the traits of
former beauty ; her mind was in no-
wise impaired ; and from her extreme
amiability, she had contrived to ren-
der her house a most agreeable re-
sort for both young and old. I was
a pretty constant frequenter of her
soirees, where the lively conversa-
tion of the women, their fondness
for dancing, music, and all sorts of
gaiety, had made a deep impression
on me, and seduced me so far as to
throw off a great part of my natio-
nality, and enter into all the spirit of
these entertainments; till, what with
the pleasing encomiums that were
sometimes bestowed on me, and the
taste I had actually formed for these
amusements, I had almost forgotten
that I was an Englishman. An inci-
dent, however, occurred, which awak-
ened me once more to my accustom-
ed reflection, and convinced me how
necessary it was sometimes to think,
even amidst the dazzling of fetes And
the busy revelry of enjoyments.

Among the females I had met at
these parties, there were two sisters,
who were particularly noticed for
their distinguished beauty and grace-

fulness of manner; they were of that
order of beings which the eye im-
mediately singles out, and which the
mind contemplates and dwells on, as
above the ordinary level of the hu-
man race. Among men as well as
women, Nature seems to have held
up some for more general admiration
than others ; the divine marks which
she has stamped in their physiogno-
my are at once so striking and so
beatiful, that we become insensibly
captive to their movements ; the mind
is awed by the contemplation of their
adornments, and we only awake from
the reverie with inspired feelings of
love or admiration.

Of this class of beings were the
two sisters to whom I allude: they
seemed formed to excite sensations
of love in every beholder ; their con-
versation, their endearing manners,
were such as riveted the senses still
more closely than their personal
charms. Unfortunately, calumny,
which seems to be the growth of
| every clime, had been busy with their
I reputations ; but this I immediately
I ascribed to the known jealousy that
I always exists against superior beauty
J and merit. My particular friend, who
i accompanied me, and who had be-
i come perfectly enamoured of the el-
der sister, participated in my opinion:
he observed, " that it needed only
extraordinary attraction to excite ex-
traordinary scandal ; that the general
feeling of the world went to depre-
ciate qualities beyond its reach ; and
that to be celebrated for any parti-
cular distinction or talent, was sure
to excite the bitter tongue of envy
and reproach."

My friend's affection became daily
more wound up in the elder of these
ladies. He was a young man of dis-
tinguished elegance and beauty of

A SKETCH OF FRENCH SOCIETY.

person, of a mind replete with ge-
nerous and lofty sentiments, an ar-
dent admirer of a fine woman, in short
of a highly elevated soul. It was
impossible for two such beings as
Amelia and himself to meet without
loving each other. Nature seemed
to have assimilated them together;
both so young, so lovely, and so lov-
ing; for but a very short time had
elapsed after their first introduction,
ere they exchanged vows of mutual
and irrevocable affection; Their love
seemed not to be of an ordinary de-
scription ; their whole souls were ab-
sorbed in the passion. I regarded
them as two beings whose feelings
and affections were scarcely of a
sublunary order ; they almost loved
too much. Should any thing hap-
pen to interrupt this affection, I
dreaded to think it must cost the life
of one or the other, or perhaps of
both.

I am accustomed to reflect a great
deal, and never to consider the things
of this world as too certain: human
happiness I know to be a frail reed
shaken by every storm, apt to be
shivered by every blast; and there
was a melancholy which seemed at
times to usurp Amelia's bosom, that
thrilled, I know not why, a most
gloomy foreboding to my soul, and
left on me an impression of most un-
happy angury.

Indeed my friend would often com-
plain to me of this melancholy which
she felt, and which he had taken
great pains to dispel, but without ef-
fect. In their solitary rambles, when
he poured forth all his soul to her,
and told her his life was made of the
love he bore her, often did he con-
jure her to shake off this sorrow,
which she never accounted for, far-
ther than as a feeling of her nature

which she could not repress. He im-
plored her not to shed a gloom over
his happiness, nor to fill his bosom
with presentiments so discouraging
to their love. Beaufort generally suc-
ceeded in dispelling those feelings;
and on this occasion, after having re-
stored her mind to perfect compla-
cency, she again renewed the pro-
mise of unalterable affection, and
consented to an immediate union.

I, who am not an advocate for rash
attachments, was always over-ruled
in my reasons against this speedy con-
clusion of a business which, I thought,
required much reflection. I imagined
that some knowledge of disposition
and character was necessary before
any reasonable hopes of happiness
could be entertained: but I was told
I had no soul for love ; and that " he
who did not love at first sight never,
loved at all;" till this sort of reason-
ing quieted all remonstrance on my
part, and although I looked with
pain on a connection I mistrusted, I
was still obliged to cease from offer-
ing further remark.

About this period, it happened
that we were invited to a ball at a
c/tateau not very distant from Paris,
in the neighbourhood of which one
or two regiments of hussars were
quartered. The young ladies were
likewise to be there. Its magnifi-
cence was spoken of as something
likely to surpass, in point of splen-
dour, all we had ever witnessed of
the kind; in fact, it did surpass all
the fetes of the sort that had lately
taken place. The brilliancy of the
uniforms of the officers who had
been invited in great numbers on this
occasion, the profusion of ornaments
that, glittered in the ladies' dresses,
the great share of beauty and fashion
assembled, and the superb manner

TOUJOUItS FIDftLU;

in which the whole suite of rooms
was decorated, all contributed to
render the place more like a fairy
scene than one of real life.

It is said that a woman's beauty is
put to the test when placed amidst
a number of beauties of her own
sex. Amelia suffered nothing from
this comparison ; both she and her
sister stood pre-eminently marked
for their superior elegance even in
this extensive circle, and at every
corner was heard the buzz of inquir-
ing admiration. Every one was anx-
ious to dance with them, but Beau-
fort very naturally obtained this fa-
vour from Amelia much oftener than
any other, which seemed to excite
some share of jealousy among the
rest of the candidates, and particu-
larly in a young officer of hussars,
who eyed him during all the turns
of a quadrille in a manner which I
thought bespoke a passion rankling
at his soul, fraught with a disagree-
able result.

Fatigued with dancing, my friend
withdrew to the card-room to amuse
himself at tcarte. Chance, I believe,
led the young officer I have just al-
luded to (and whom for distinction's
sake I shall call Delessert) to the same
room ; and in the course of play,
Beaufort and himself became op-
posed to each other in the game.
Beaufort lost the stake, and with-
drawing his glove to pay over the
money, he discovered a diamond
ring on his finger, which seemed to
light up the face of Delessert with
astonishment and dismay.

This ring Amelia had given to
Beaufort in the hour she plighted her
faith to him. " With it," said she,
" I give you my heart, and whilst
you wear it, and continue to prize it,
I can never cease to love you : if

ever you part with it, I shall consi-
der you wish to free yourself from
the attachment 1 bear towards you."

The words of a mistress are always
sacred to a lover's ear: to Beaufort
then how much more dear was this
gift than any thing he possessed on
earth ! Delessert pretended to admire
the ring, and asked permission to
look at it : this was refused. " I
dare not displace it from my finger,"
said Beaufort. — " And why refuse
so trifling a request ? It would give
me infinite pleasure if you would but
lend it me for an instant." This was
without avail. — " I wonder, sir, at
your earnestness to look at a ring
which certainly cannot interest you
much." — " Sir," answered Delessert,
" let us retire to another part of the
room, that we may converse further
on this subject." My friend imme-
diately complied. " That ring, sir,"
continued Delessert, " closely resem-
bles one I gave my mistress ; it bears
a device within it, ' toujouks fi-
DELE.' You must either resign it, or
die to-morrow ere the morning dawn."
— " Then I must die indeed, sir, for
never will I resign it whilst I have
breath ;" and then presenting his
card, he added, " I shall be glad to
meet you, sir, the instant the ball is
finished, that we may definitively ar-
range this affair."

On my friend's reappearance in
the ball-room, I was rather struck
with his altered features, and plainly
saw that something deeply agitated
his soul. Perhaps it was at this mo-
ment that a doubt of Amelia's faith
first flashed across his mind. I taxed
him with being disturbed. " You
have," said I, " a disorganized air ;
something has happened to you." He
answered that it was mere weariness,
and begged me to finish the dance;

A SKETCH OF FRENCH SOCIETY.

for I was at that moment the partner
of Amelia's sister in a quadrille, who,
I confess, had likewise entangled my
heart, and I began earnestly to think
I was half in love. The dance fi-
nished, soon did the first words of
Beaufort restore me to my senses,
by dispelling all my love for the sis-
ter. He related to me what had
passed. " O my prophetic soul !"
I perceived there was more in this
affair than my friend would be wil-
ling to believe ; but the storm was
now raised, and it was necessary to
weather it out. He told me of the
rendezvous he had given Delessert
as soon as the ball ended, and begged
me to act as his friend on this occa-
sion.

The night was growing late, and
we returned to the hotel in the neigh-
bouring village, where we had taken
beds. Soon after we entered, De-
lessert and his friend, an officer of
his own regiment, made their appear-
ance. " Sir," said Delessert to my
friend, " let us speak frankly to-
gether; our negociation may be ter-
minated in a few words. Have you
any pretensions to the lady from
whom you received the ring I saw on
your finger? If so, I will not beg
you to renounce her; I have too high
an opinion of your courage to expect
it; the life of one or the other can
alone decide the point. But I must
observe to you, that the lady is my
mistress ; she has been so for upwards
of a twelvemonth. I adore her be-
yond life ; my devotion to her has
proved it. I have twice braved death
for her sake, and have been twice
wounded: six months of anguish on
a bed of sickness from the wounds I
have received have taught me to
know that I love her. It was the
Vol. III. No. XIII.

thought of her alone, and the idea
that the dangers I had encountered
for her might bind her to me, that
roused me into life again : still I am
aware she is unfaithful to me, though
I have sacrificed fortune, friends,
and health for her sake. To be near
her is the only joy I know on earth.
I love her to distraction, and will
never endure the thought of being
supplanted by another."

" Hold, sir!" said Beaufort ; " there
is no necessity for adding falsehood
to insolence : you have said enough
already to rouse my indignation ; I
shall retire, and leave the rest for
my friend to settle with yours." Both
the principals after this quitted the
room. Independently of any other
obstacle, too much had been said to
leave the slightest hope of accom-
modation, and blood was now to be
shed before any further word could
be spoken.

Delessert's friend, who I really
believe regretted the turn the affair
had taken, and whose object and
wish was to have spared a sacrifice
of life if possible, first broke silence
after the pause that had ensued. He
said there was one point on which he
wished to be satisfied before he ac-
companied his friend to the ground,
which was, to be assured of the iden-
tity of the ring; for in fact there
might exist many rings similar to the
one which Beaufort wore. He asked
if it bore the device of " toujouhs
fidelk," and was answered in the
affirmative. We then proceeded to
arrange the meeting for the following
morning. It was agreed that they
should fire together by signal, at the
usual distance of twelve paces, and
| it fell to my lot to give the word.
i But a new difficulty here presented
D

TOUJOURS 1'IDELK;

itself: no pistols were at hand; this
was unfortunate in the extreme: a
servant, however, was dispatched to
Paris, who, mounted on a fleet horse,
returned by daybreak with a case I
had left at my hotel there.

It was a soft morning in the early
part of autumn; the day seemed to
dawn with a mildness peculiar to the
season ; the sun was just rearing its
head, as if to witness the tragic scene
that was about to ensue. The place
of rendezvous was a wood about a
mile from the chateau. As we pro-
ceeded in our carriage to the spot, I
could not help contrasting the happy
countenances of the peasantry pro-
ceeding to market, with the feelings
that agitated my breast. Happy crea-
tures! thought I, if ye are far re-
moved from the luxuries and enjoy-
ments of the great, ye are also far
removed from their cares and annoy-
ances : the pleasures which fill your
bosoms are perhaps not so exquisite
as those which occupy the elegant
world, but then your griefs are not
so poignant; your injuries are for-
gotten in a day; your dissensions are
healed, as they are formed, by a word !
That stern notion called honour does
not teach you bravely to shed your
fellow-creature's blood to rid your-
selves of a rival, or to give a proof
©f your courage !

We arrived on the spot a few
minutes before the time appointed :
our adversaries were not yet there,
so that we had a fttw moments' leisure
for conversation. " If I fall," said
Beaufort, giving me his watch, " I
beg you to preserve this in memory
of your friend. Bear this.," said he,
giving me his portrait, " to Amelia,
and tell her to cherish the recollec-
tion of one who, had lie survived,
would have thought the longest life

too short to be spent in devotion to
her happiness." I rallied him as
being too desponding, and said,
" that I still hoped the affair would
not terminate fatally." He observed,
that he was perfectly resigned to
whatever might happen, for he felt
the inward conviction that he was
most unjustly provoked to this com-
bat.

By this time Delessert and his
friend arrived on the ground, and
apologized for having detained us.
He said he had one request to make,
which he hoped would be acceded
to: that whatever the result of this
affair might be, the cause for which
they had met might for ever remain
secret. I would not bind myself to
any promise on the part of Beaufort,
but contented myself with saying,
that if nothing transpired to render
an explanation of the affair necessary,
I should certainly not reveal it : but
this was a matter which must be en-
tirely left to circumstances and my
own discretion. He observed it was
the protection of Amelia's character
which induced him to make the re-
quest ; but as it did not appear by
his rash proceedings that he could
have considered this as an object of
great importance, all farther conver-
sation was waved. The ground was
immediately taken, the pistols were
respectively handed to each party,
and the signal agreed on given. Both
fired together, and Delessert received
his antagonist's shot in his right
breast. He staggered and fell to the
ground. We ran towards him, and
expressed a hope that the wound was
not mortal. " I do not think it is,"
said he; and addressing himself to
Beaufort, he observed, " Should this
wound prove my death, I freely for-
give you. The love I bear to Amelia

A SKKTCII OF FllKNCII SOCIETY.

never could brook the thought of a
rival. I know that my affection is
not repaid with the constancy it me-
rits, but I must prove to her that
she can never encourage another with
impunity. I have some title to her
affection. She bears a pledge within

her " Here his voice became

much enfeebled; he murmured the
words " Toujours fidele," and
fainting from loss of blood, was borne
from the spot.

Regret that a fellow-creature's life
had perhaps been sacrificed ren-
dered us immoveable for some mo-
ments : but the recollection that my
best friend was still preserved to me
suggested the thought of immediate
flight. Beaufort spurned the idea,
and was determined to await the con-
sequence of the event whatever it
might be. " Let us remove," said
I, " at least till the nature of his
wound is ascertained : a few days may
enable us to decide what course to
take; our safety is endangered." —
" No, not for an instant," was his re-
ply ; " Fate may do her worst! Why
am I spared for a life of wretched-
ness ? His dying words are not to be
discredited ; she is his mistress, and
I have been grossly deceived."

A tumult was now gathering in his
bosom, the pain of which can only
be felt by those who have had the
misfortune to lose " at one fell swoop"
every thing they prized on earth.
The world was now to him but one
uniform blank, dull waste; all his
fond projects of delight were changed
to wild despair. A woman's infide-
lity was about to complete that ha-
voc, which, but a few moments be-
fore, I rejoiced that the pistol had
spared.

The news of a duel having taken
place was very soon spread, and cu-

riosity was on the alert to ascertain
J the cause. Rumour assigned a thou-
sand reasons equally ridiculous and
untrue; various were the means em-
ployed to extort the circumstances
of the case, but without effect.

I was now perfectly assured in my
j own mind, that the tale exactly as
j Delessert had related it was true,
and lamented his absurd infatuation
j for a woman, who, notwithstanding
j any favours she might have conferred,
had now evidently become changed
and unfaithful to him, and was wil-
ling to rid herself of an obnoxious
lover, even at the expence of his
life. But most of all I deplored the
depravity of a woman who, under
the mask of innocence, could hope
or seek to entrap the heart of an un-
suspecting confiding man. Did she
seek to consummate this union in the
rank deception in which it was begun ?
Could this be love to Beaufort, to
encourage his addresses at the im-
minent peril of his life from a des-
perate rival, who had fought so many
duels for her sake? Delessert's fond-
ness for Amelia too filled me with
disgust ; I ceased to pity him : his
wanton exposure of her character,
however true it might be, seemed a
base means of securing her to him-
self. A suspicion of his conduct had
perhaps reached her ears, and made
her resolve on ridding herself of so
dangerous a connection.

The wound which Delessert had
received was fortunately pronounced
not mortal, and his health continued
to improve slowly. Not so with
Beaufort; the wound which had been
planted in his mind preyed dreadfully
on his feelings. His fine form, the
admiration of every beholder, wasted
visibly. His bright eye, which, had
penetrated mp.r.y a heart, grew dim
D 2

TOUJOUKS FIDELK," &C.

and hollow. His spirits, which had
rendered him the charm of every so-
ciety in which he moved, had sunk
into utter dejection. He totally se-
cluded himself from the world, yield-
ing entirely to that grief which had
taken such deep root in his soul.

The only person who did not long
remain ignorant of the reason for
which Beaufort and Delessert had
met on the fatal morning subsequent
to the ball was Amelia herself, whose
conscience, now awake to all the hor-
rors of her situation, easily interpret-
ed the cause of every thing which
had happened. From that moment
she shrunk from public gaze, and be-
came filled with anxiety and fears
lest the affair should become known :
so great was the shock her feelings
experienced on this occasion, that
her life was at one period despaired
of. But she did not rightly know
or appreciate the sentiments of those
who possessed her secret: death
would have been preferred in its most
frightful shape, rather than that one
word should ever have escaped the
lips of Beaufort which suspicion
might even have glanced at. His
love for Amelia unfortunately re-
mained, though she had ceased to
deserve it.

I endeavoured to make him shake
off so unworthy a feeling, and point-
ed out to him the folly of entertain-
ing one spark of affection for a de-
graded woman. " My friend," said
I, " you have much to blame your-
self for in thisbusiness: it is your own
thoughtlessness and want of know-
ledge of the world that renders your
situation so unhappy; you must not
be surprised at being deceived. Con-
sider for a moment the nature of her
conduct towards you, and you must
cease to think of her but with feelings

of detestation. It is worse than de-
ception, it is complete criminality:
she consented to receive your love
at the moment her honour and virtue
were irretrievably lost; and that not
only at the price of your happiness,
but perhaps of your life, which she
would not have blushed to have made
the sacrifice of her guilty passion,
and thus have committed the crime
of murder."

By this and the like reasoning I
hoped to restore his mind to its for-
mer tranquillity, but his affliction was
too deeply seated to be easily remov-
ed. " With all the enormity of her
conduct," said Beaufort, " I love her
beyond what I have power to express.
She is too beauteous to be forgotten,
and even now I can scarcely recon-
cile myself to the thought, that such
perfidy can be allied to such divine
qualities. Hei\very face is that of
an angel; innocence and meekness
are portrayed in her features; the
language that falls from her lips
would ensnare the heart of an ancho-
ret and even a sceptic into firm be-
lief."

The wounds inflicted by grief ge-
nerally yield to the hand of time,
though there are hearts which cor-
rode with melancholy recollections,
and there are sorrows which work in
silence on the soul, making but little
visible outward ravage, compared
with the consuming workings within.
This was the nature of Beaufort's
grief, and a letter which he received
from Amelia, instead of assisting to
dispel it, completely achieved the
misery of my unhappy friend. It
ran thus: " A calm has succeeded
to the noise of inquiry respecting the
late duel. I may now address you,
though on a bed of sickness; neither
the removal from which, nor any

THE ILLUMINATED CHURCH AT NEISSE, IN SILE6IA.

earthly circumstance, can ever bring
repose to a mind whose misery is
consummated in this world. My
friend — dare I still call you so? — the
maddening love I felt towards you
made me strive to gain your affec-
tions at any risk. My life still hangs
on that affection, and though I love
you, I must possess it or die. Tell
me it is fled, and let me expire upon
the word!

" Your silence, your secrecy re-
garding the whole transaction, is a
charity I do not deserve; it is an in-
dulgence which kills me: still it leaves
a faint gleam of hope upon my mind,
that you do not utterly despise me.

0 God! if life could efface the wound

1 have given to your noble spirit, I
would yield up mine with joy; but
even this consolation is denied me,
and the reflection of the irreparable
injury I have done you must remain
my everlasting torment and regret.

" What have I forfeited? all which
is honourable or dear in life ! But

what did I attempt to gain? all that
is most precious of heaven's gifts!
What are the means I have employ-
ed? they are too horrid to think of,
much more to repeat!

" I could fly with you to the ut-
termost end of the earth and be your
slave, did I but know that you could
forgive me. Did I but dare to think
you do not curse me, and still re-
member me with kindness, I would
cherish that life which is now ebbing
fast from me. But tell me what you
think of me ? Heap upon me the re-
proaches I merit, or say one kind
word, and thus bid me live or die !"

To this letter Beaufort sent an
answer full of kindness and feeling;
his generous heart was incapable of
reproach. He at last adopted the
only advice and recommendation I
could give. The next morning saw
him on his route to a distant country,
there to seek that forgetfulness of
his woes which could alone contribute
to his relief.

GHOST STORIES.— No. IV.

THE ILLUMINATED CHURCH AT NEISSE, IN SILESIA.

The following narrative is given
in the words of Lieutenant-Colonel
Weisse, of the Prussian artillery,
who, at the beginning of the present
century, resided at Wesel.

During the Seven Years' war,
being then in garrison in the fortress
of Neisse, in Silesia, I was an eye-
witness of a singular and exceedingly
mysterious phenomenon which oc-
curred at that place. By command
of Frederic II. of Prussia, the Jesuits
had been obliged to remove into the
country, for the purpose of continu-
ing there the instruction of youth.
When therefore they had completely

cleared out their church at Neisse,
they quitted the town altogether.
Not one of them was left, when the
commandant of the fortress gave ex-
press orders that this church should
be turned into a magazine of provi-
sions; but at the same time he di-
rected that care should be taken to
leave the high-altar unencumbered,
and not to injure it, on account of
the beauty of its construction.

A rumour suddenly spread through
the town that a bright light, which
illuminated the whole church, was
seen at night upon this altar. People
thronged from all quarters to witness

THIS ILLUMINATED CHURCH AT NEISSK, IN SILESIA.

this wonder, and curiosity induced
me likewise to go to see the light.
For two successive nights I endea-
voured to reach the place from which
it might be perceived, but in vain ;
the concourse was too great, and I
felt no particular call to elbow my
way into the midst of the crowd.

On the third evening, when the
commandant himself repaired thither,
I was lucky enough to arrive in his
suite at the envied spot where the
miraculous light was to be viewed.
I must confess that it threw me into
no small astonishment to find every
thing tally so exactly with the ac-
counts which I had heard. The
whole church was so light that every
object within it might be distinguish-
ed through the windows. It looked
as if the light proceeded from the
high-altar. The commandant imme-
diately ordered the key to be brought,
and the church opened. I, with many
others, accompanied him to the door,
and our astonishment was infinitely
increased when, on opening it, we
found the whole church in profound
darkness, and could not discover in
it the least trace of light.

The commandant was therefore
necessitated to send for lanterns, that
the church might be examined. No-
thing whatever was found that tend-
ed in the slightest degree to eluci-
date the mysterious affair. Neither
could the people in the street per-
ceive any light while we were in the
church ; according to their assurance,
it disappeared the moment the door
was opened.

It seemed therefore that for this
time nothing more could be done,
and we, accompanied the command-
ant back to his residence. To this
end we were obliged to pass the

above-mentioned place. Judge then
of our surprise, when we again saw
the church as brilliantly illuminated
as before, so that every object, and
especially the altar, appeared per-
fectly distinct through the window!

It may easily be supposed, that
even among the reflecting portion of
the spectators opinions differed wide-
ly on the subject of this extraordi-
nary sight. The multitude consi-
dered it as an omen that peace would
be speedily restored, and that the
king would then permit the Jesuits
again to perform their devotions in
this church as they had formerly
done.

To make an end of the matter,
the commandant ordered sentinels to
be placed the following night in the
church. This was done, but no
discovery ensued. That night the
church remained in darkness, and
no light was perceived either from
within or without: but no sooner was
the precaution of posting sentries
omitted, than the light was again
discovered on the altar, and the
whole interior of the edifice appear-
ed illuminated.

The commandant then issued a
proclamation, offering a considerable
reward to any person who should
discover and satisfactorily explain
the nature of the mystery. Two
days passed, and no clue was ob-
tained ; but on the third a private
belonging to the garrison desired to
speak with the commandant, and pro-
mised in the most positive manner to
solve the mystery to his entire sa-
tisfaction.

The same evening the general, ac-
companied by a numerous party of
inquisitive persons, repaired at the
usual time to the place near the

TIfK rLLUMINATKD CIIUKCU AT MiaSSK, IN SILESIA.

£3

church. The soldier was already
there, and the wondrous light was
again visible.

The concourse of people was, as
may easily be imagined, immense on
this occasion. The general actually
found it necessary to post a guard
at the church-door before it was
opened. As soon as we entered the
church, we found ourselves surround-
ed by a magic light, the rays of which
seemed to be thrown from exactly
that part of the high-altar where the
pyx is usually kept: nay, what was
still more wonderful, it was of a cir-
cular form, and precisely of the di-
mensions of the host. This pheno-
menon could not fail to produce many
extraordinary and absurd inferences
in the minds of the yet very super-
stitious spectators.

The soldier then conducted us to
the altar, and directed our attention
to that part of the church-window
from which the rays of light, con-
centrated into a focus, were thrown
upon the altar. He next begged
the commandant to take the trouble
to go with him to his .quarters, where
he would shew him how he contrived
to make the concentrated rays of
light fall upon the window, and pre-
cisely upon the high-altar. The ge-
neral, and as many of his suite as the
place would admit, followed the sol-
dier to the garret of a high house ex-
actly opposite to the church. Here
we found a mechanic who, with a
concave mirror, had, agreeably to the
known rules of optics, but quite ac-
cidentally and undesignedly, pro-
duced the phenomenon which ap-
peared so wonderful, and had given
rise to so much conjecture.

" I am employed," said the soldier,
" by this optician, who sometimes gives
me work to take home with me to

my quarters. Some time ago I had a
tolerably large concave mirror or
burning-glass to frame. This glass
chanced one evening, while I was at
work, to be placed in such a posi-
tion as to throw a light through my
window upon one of the windows of
the church. I was suddenly roused
from my occupation by a noise in
the street, which proceeded from a
number of people collected there.
Curiosity induced me to open the
window, and 1 heard them talking
of a wonderful light in the Jesuit's
church over the way. I was myself
not a little astonished, on looking at
the church, to observe that it was
completely illuminated. It was not
long, however, before I guessed the
real cause of this phenomenon. I
changed the position of my mirror,
and the light in the church instan-
taneously vanished.

" Soon afterwards, when the gaping
spectators had dispersed, I made re-
peated experiments, and always with
the same success as before. Not a
soul besides my comrade, who lodg-
ed in the same room with me, knew
what had happened with the mirror;
I charged him to keep the matter a
profound secret, and he did not be-
tray it. When I had finished the
mirror, I ought to have delivered it,
and yet I wished to keep it a little
longer for this purpose. I therefore
disclosed the matter to this optician,
and begged him to allow me to retain
the mirror for a short time for this
use. He not only complied with my
request, but also assisted me by his
skill to render the illusion more com-
plete. He also raised an objection
at the outset to my room ; ' for," said
he, ' if we do not procure another,
people will perceive whence the light
proceeds.'

ACCOUNT OF THE HARMONY SOCIETY.

" We therefore consulted the land-
lord of the house, and initiated him
into our secret. He offered us this
little garret, the window of which is
not visible from the street. Here it
is that, till the present moment, our
operations have been carried on.
Whenever they were going forward,
my comrade was sent out into the
street to notice what was passing
there, and to bring me word. Ac-
cordingly I made the light disappear
when your excellency caused the
church to be opened ; but no sooner
did I hear that it was shut up again,
than the light again became visible. In
like manner, I was cautious enough
not to produce any illumination on
the night when the sentries were sta-

tioned in the church, as they might
easily have discovered the deception."
This explanation was perfectly sa-
tisfactory to the general, and to every
other person of ordinary intelligence.
He therefore paid the soldier the
promised reward of ten dollars, but
with a strict injunction not to play
any more tricks of the sort. The
general was, nevertheless, prevailed
upon the following day by the solici-
tations of many curious persons, to
permit a few more repetitions of the
spectacle for the benefit of the ac-
tors, who obtained a considerable
sum by the exhibition. After curio-
sity had been gratified, and ignorance
duly enlightened, there was an end
to the wonder.

ACCOUNT OF THE HARMONY SOCIETY, IN THE UNITED
STATES OF AMERICA.

TO THE EDITOR.

Sir,

In this colonizing age, I have
no doubt that the following account
of a community of Europeans settled
in the wilds of America, whose con-
stitution and regulations are not per-
haps to be paralleled on the face of
the globe, will prove acceptable to
your readers. This community was
originally composed of natives of Wir-
temberg; and though much has been
published in Germany on the subject
of their establishment, yet I believe
its existence is scarcely known in this
country. The foreign accounts, how-
ever, founded chiefly on hearsay,
abounded to such a degree with pre-
judice, error, and falsehood, that two
members of the society in question,
who were sent to their native country
to transact a variety of business in
behalf of their brethren in America,
deemed it right, on their return last

spring, to leave behind them a writ-
ten statement, tending to correct the
misrepresentations of ignorance and
malignity. The report of these per-
sons, who have belonged to the So-
ciety ever since its first institution, is
as follows :

The Harmony Society, now set-
tled on the riverWabash, in the North
American state of Indiana, chiefly
consists of Wirtemberg emigrants,
most of whom quitted their country
in the year 1804.

After their arrival in Philadelphia,
they performed a journey by land of
about 400 miles ; and at the distance
of about 35 miles from the town of
Pittsburgh in Pennsylvania, they pur-
chased 6000 acres of uncultivated
land, at the rate of three dollars per
acre. As there were among them
many families who possessed no pro-

ACCOUNT OF THE HARMONY SOCIETY.

perty whatever, rich and poor, actu-
ated by powerful religious feelings,
associated together, and voluntarily
deposited all they had in one com-
mon stock, for the purpose of jointly-
cultivating the land ; and it was agreed
that in case any of the members should
in process of time chuse to secede
from the Society, they should have a
right to demand back only the amount
of their original contribution.

There were about fifty families
who, on the 15th February, 1805,
entered into this agreement ; the num-
ber has since increased to one hun-
dred and fifty families.

As no community or society can
long subsist without certain officers;
so in this case it was evident that or-
der and propriety could not be duly
maintained without something of this
sort. The Society therefore had re-
course to the expedient of a public
election, and chose,almost unanimous-
ly, John George Rapp of Ipptingen,
a man of sound religion, understand-
ing, experience, and firmness, to be
the first Warden, and seven other per-
sons to be Elders of the community.
These were charged with the super-
intendence of every thing connected
with the well-being of the Society,
both in spirituals and temporals, and
with the execution of the rules and
ordinances which the members had
themselves framed and adopted. As
therefore the executive power is in-
trusted by the general consent to the
Warden and Elders; namely, for the
purpose of suppressing all irregula-
rities and vices which are contrary to
the word of God and the Christian
religion; for watching that extrava-
gance and luxury, either in dress or
any other particular, may not exceed
the limits appointed by the rules
Vol III, No, XIII.

drawn up by the members them-
selves, and permitted by circumstan-
ces— many a prejudiced observer,
who is ignorant of the basis of our
constitution, has erroneously consi-
dered the authority of the Warden
as self-assumed and unlimited; nay
even insinuated, that a despotism
is gradually forming among us. But
those who are capable of judging
impartially, and appreciating the ties
which bind this community together,
need not be told that such a system
cannot subsist in the United States,
where the voice of the people alone
governs, and where the presiding of-
ficers are always elected by the ma-
jority of votes. No person can hold
any office among us without the will
and approbation of the members of
the Society, and whoever should
strive to force himself into one would
be the least likely to succeed.

After these points had been ar-
ranged, a fit site for a town was
sought, and houses built; the forest
was transformed into corn-fields and
meadows; and mills and manufacto-
ries, and other necessary edifices,
were successively erected.

It was not long before some fami-
lies manifested a desire to separate
from us, because social life did not
at the first moment come up to their
expectations ; for every beginning is
difficult, and so was ours. After the
Society had existed about half a year,
the above-mentioned families actual-
ly seceded, and demanded the im-
mediate repayment of their respec-
tive contributions. But, as nearly
the whole of the money had with their
consent been expended on land, cat-
tle, and other stock, and the Society
had yet no returns, and was conse-
quently incapable of refunding the
E

ACCOUNT OF THJI HAHMONY SOCIETY.

whole amount at once, the magis-
trates of our district appointed the
term within which it should be paid.
This circumstance has afforded occa-
sion to some to assert, most errone-
ously, that no one can leave us with-
out sacrificing all he possessed. The
fact is, that we have no compulsory
members ; for every one is at liberty
to go when and whither soever he
pleases. It would be a melancholy
thing if, in a free country, a person
were tied against his will to any par-
ticular spot. Now that the circum-
stances of the Society are improved,
every one who wishes to leave us is
instantly dismissed with his property,
but without any addition or interest,
which cannot be divided, unless a
majority of the members vote for the
dissolution of the community.

In the course of a few years, when
we had made considerable progress
in agriculture, in the breeding of cat-
tle, and even in planting vineyards
and orchards, the natives of the coun-
try thronged from all quarters to see
and to admire what Wirtemberg in-
dustry and united efforts had accom-
plished in so short a period. The
fame of the Society was consequent-
ly spread far and wide.

Finding, however, by experience,
that the climate was extremely unfa-
vourable for the production of fruit
and wine, and that we should never
have much to expect from our vine-
yards, on account of the late spring
frosts ; as also that the soil was
poorer than we could have wished,
and that all our surplus produce was
to be conveyed a considerable dis-
tance to market by land-carriage ; we
were induced, in the spring of 1814,
to select three of our number, and to
send them to the state of Indiana,
which has a warmer climate, to seek

a spot more suitable for our settle-
ment. When these deputies return-
ed, and made their report respecting
Indiana, the Society resolved, after
mature consideration, to sell the first
establishment, called Harmony, and
to remove to that state. The place
was accordingly sold, with the G000
acres of land, to two Americans for
100,000 Spanish dollars, payable in
ten years. The settlement had there-
fore increased in value four hundred
per cent, in ten years.

The removal, which was effected
upon the Ohio, commenced in June
1814, and continued in parties till
May 1815, when the whole Society
was again assembled on land purchas-
ed of the government at the rate of
two dollars and a half per acre. It
is situated on the east side of the ri-
ver Wabash, in 38° 30' north lati-
tude, and about 90° west longitude
from London.

The tract contains 25,000 acres of
the best and richest land that is to be
found. It has spacious woods, con-
sisting of oak, beech, ash, three dif-
ferent sorts of wild walnut-trees,
which grow to the thickness of 3 or
4 feet, and to the height of from
50 to 60 in the trunk, and are admi-
rably adapted to all kinds of cabinet-
makers' work ; also gum-trees, wild
figs, a species of service-tree, wild
cherry, apple and plum-trees, besides
wild vines of immense height and
thickness, all of which produce fruit.
The maple too, from the juice of
which large quantities of brown su-
gar are made every spring, is very
common ; so is the sassafras - tree,
from two to three feet thick ; and there
are several other sorts, as for in-
stance, a kind of white poplar, which
has a very compact wood, and is
I commonly used for boards and wains-

ACCOUNT OF THIS HARMONY SOCIETY.

'ill

coring. In the low grounds there are
very large cypress-trees, which are
useful for coopers' work and shingles.
In the woods are found stags, deer,
bears, wolves, badgers, hares, wild
cats, serpents, wild turkeys, the cock
of which frequently weighs twenty-
five pounds, and many other birds.

On a fine plain, not far from the
river Wabash, and so situated as to
leave an intervening valley of pasture-
ground, stands our new town, Har-
mony. The streets are broad, and
all run at right angles, direct from
south to north, and from east to west.
To each house is attached a garden,
in such a manner that the house ad-
joins to the next garden, so as to be
out of danger in case of fire.

The land now under cultivation,
comprehending 3000 acres, is well
adapted to wheat, rye, barley, maize,
oats, hemp, flax, and rape. About
15 acres have been planted with vines,
which for some years past have yield-
ed considerable quantities of wine.
In quality it nearly resembles the
wine of Wirtemberg.

About one half of the inhabitants
are engaged in agricultural occupa-
tions; the other half consists of all
sorts of mechanics.

The produce of the land is stored
in public barns. The corn and pulse
are threshed by a machine, by whieii
75 Wirtemberg bushels of clean
wheat have been obtained in a day ;
it is then conveyed to a granary,
whence it is delivered out to the mil-
ler, who grinds it as it is wanted, and
supplies each family with a certain
quantity, according to its number.

The corn-mill, a fulling-mill, a mill
to grind edge tools, four carding ma-
chines for wool and two for cotton,
together with two large spinning-ma-
chines for cotton, are all worked by

a steam-engine, which is situated at
the south-east corner of the town,
and cost about 25,000 dollars.

We raise a considerable quantity
of wool ourselves, and the rest we
obtain from the Americans in barter
for cloth. The cotton-plant also
thrives tolerably with us, but not
near so well as in the province of Te-
nessee or Louisiana.

We have spinners, weavers, dyers,
and, in general, persons of all those
trades which are requisite for the
manufacture of coarse and fine cloth;
and all the artisans necessary for the
supply of the ordinary wants of life.
Whoever needs a pair of shoes or
boots, applies to the shoemaker, and
is furnished with them gratuitously.
In like manner, hats, coats, and other
habiliments, as well as all sorts of ne-
cessaries, are delivered without pay.
On the other hand, neither the hus-
bandman nor the mechanic receives
any wages ; but they serve one ano-
ther with the gift bestowed upon them
by God, as members of one body or
as children of one father. To each
trade, however, there is appointed
a foreman, to who^n all applications
are made, who is enjoined by the So-
ciety to be watchful at his post, and
not to do more or less in his line than
circumstances and the regulations of
the community authorize, that no
fetmber may, through mismanage-
ment, be straitened or suffer want;
but that, on the other hand, those who
manifest any disposition to luxury or
extravagance maybe timely checked,
and every thing be conducted with
order and regularity.

All the surplus products of our
land, as well as those of our manu-
factures, for instance, shoes, leather,
hats, also cattle and other articles,
are sold for the benefit of the whole,
E U

ACCOUNT OF THE HARMONY SOCIETY.

and the receipts expended on arti-
cles which we neither have nor make;
such as iron, steel, salt, glass, pa-
per, dye-stuffs, or other raw materi-
als. Considerable sums are also now
laid out on all sorts of improvements
in the buildings, mills, roads, and
for other public purposes.

The funds of the Society are un-
der the management of a person who
renders an account at stated times,
and who, with some assistants, trans-
acts the business of the Society.

For travellers there is a spacious
and convenient inn, where they find
good and reasonable accommoda-
tions, and have five persons to wait
upon them.

An extensive shop has also been
erected, to which the Americans
bring their surplus products for sale
or exchange ; and likewise purchase
manufactures, shoes, hats, and even
foreign goods; which is of course
profitable to ourselves and to our
neighbours.

An excellent water-mill with three
pair of stones, but room for six pair,
has been built on a branch of the
river Wabash, about two miles be-
low the town, in which is a pair of
French millstones, that cost 400 dol-
lars, and make a great quantity of
extremely fine flour for the market
of New-Orleans. A good deal of
corn is also ground for American
customers.

In matters of importance, which
are not within the competence of the
"Warden and Elders, the majority of
the votes of the members of the So-
ciety decide; and most transgres-
sions of individuals are taken cogni-
zance of by a sort of jury of their
comrades. But, as we have among
us no such things as fines, the offend-
ers arc, by way of punishment, ex-

cluded from the public meeting for a
certain time, during which none of
the congregation will associate with
such individuals, either till the term
of exclusion is over, or till, upon ex-
pressing their contrition for the past
and giving a promise of amendment
for the future, they are re-admitted.
Were any one to commit a heinous
offence, a case which has never yet
happened, he would be consigned to
the officers of justice of the canton
to which we belong. In fact, it is
impossible for any hardened sinner
or hypocrite to remain long among
us ; for they find none like them-
selves, and soon leave a place where
they are quite out of their element.
We regard peace and unity as
more precious than jewels, and in or-
der to preserve them, we scruple not
to sacrifice our own will, and to sub-
ject it at all times to that of the So-
ciety ; and in so doing we find that
our aim is best attained.

Thus far the written statement of
the two deputies. From their ver-
bal communications we learn, that
the whole system of the Harmony
Society is founded on the bases of
morality and religion ; and that it is
designed, by the utmost simplicity, by
absolute equality, by incessant indus-
try without any motive of private in-
terest, and by solicitude for the gene-
ral welfare, to bridle all passions, and
to produce and preserve perfect har-
mony, in the strictest sense of the
term, among all its members.

The foundation of their religious
creed is the Bible, which they follow
according to their own conviction,
without concerning themselves about
dogmatic points. Their worship has
the nearest resemblance to the Evan-
gelical.

ACCOUNT OF THE HARMONY SOCIETY.

They have their amusements and
diversions, but these seem to be go-
verned by the spirit of the whole.
The manner of celebrating Sunday
they described as follows: " The
morning service is attended by the
whole congregation. We afterwards
assemble in the Great Square, to lis-
ten to the music of such members as
are fond of that science. Their num-
ber is about seventy ; and whoever
manifests talents and inclination for
it may receive instruction, but is not
allowed to make music an exclusive
profession. At these public per-
formances, not only the greater com-
positions of eminent masters, over-
tures by Mozart and others, but also
smaller pieces, good walzes, and the
like, are executed. When the mu-
sic is over, the Society divides into
parties, either to take walks before
dinner, or to arrange longer excur-
sions for the afternoon to the neigh-
bouring hills, or into the magnificent
woods. In the latter case, one of
them takes with him a volume of
Klopstock's works, or those of some
other classic writer, out of which he
reads, and then they converse on
what they have heard. In the even-
ing, all assemble again to public wor-
ship, after which, if they do not clmse
to go home, they again walk about."

The unexpected word walz natu-
rally led to the question : " Is danc-
ing allowed among you?" It produc-
ed this short answer: " Dancing is
not prohibited ; but none of us ever
yet took it into his head to dance."

The intercourse of the youth of
both sexes is not obstructed; but
when it is observed that a young
couple manifest a particular fondness
for each other's company, the parents
and relatives on both sides seek ra-
ther to promote the match, if it be

otherwise unobjectionable, than to
prevent it. The choice of the par-
ties is wholly left to their own incli-
nations.

No where can marriage be attend-
ed with fewer cares than here, where
the community provides for all pre-
sent and future wants. A new-mar-
ried couple are set up in housekeep-
ing at the public expense, and they
are afterwards supplied, like the
other members, with whatever them-
selves and their families need, out of
the common stock.

In order to be an active member
of this Society, a person must follow
some trade, no matter what, so it be
but useful. The occupation gives
no pre-eminence; and the husband-
man is considered as on a perfect
equality with the artisan or the shop-
keeper. The only difference arises
from the general respect acquired by
personal ability and exemplary con-
duct, but which is liable to be for-
feited by the slightest misbehavi-
our.

When a person proves awkward in
the employment which he has chosen,
or which has been allotted to him, he
is removed from it, and put to ano-
ther which seems better adapted to
the faculties of his mind or body.

Of the Warden of the Society,
John George Rapp, the two depu-
ties spoke with high respect, and
they seemed to be much pained by
the statements that have appeared in
Europe to his disadvantage. They
repeatedly declared, that he was ele-
vated to the office which he holds by
the free choice of his brethren; and
that owing to his advancing age —
being now 65 years old — he has fre-
quently solicited, but in vain, to be
relieved from its arduous duties. Ac-
cording to this account he must have

ACCOUNT OF THK HARMONY SOCIETY,

been between 45 and 46 when he
quitted bis former abode at Ipptin-
gen, a village in the canton of Yai-
hingen, in Wirtemberg, where be
bad been chiefly engaged in agri-
culture, and followed the trade of a
weaver. The testimony of these men,
given at such a distance, and in un-
reserved confidence, appears to be
above all suspicion, especially since
they regard themselves not as subor-
dinate to Rapp, but as paying vo-
luntai-y obedience to the general re-
gulations. Their respect therefore
rests on particular grounds, and these
cannot but lie in the merits of the in-
dividual. His character certainly de-
serves a closer examination. Ad-
verse accounts have described him
sometimes as an ambitious despot
and oppressor, and at others as a
downright fanatic ; while the reports
from his own flock represent him as
an intelligent and energetic, but at
the same time disinterested, humane,
and benevolent pastor.

It is not denied that in his native
country Rapp was considered as an
enthusiast, and as the head of a sect
of schismatics, which, according to
the general notion, begins with re-
nouncing the discipline of the esta-
blished church, and finally bids defi-
ance to the temporal power. Such
a sect cannot be viewed with indif-
ference in a well-regulated European
government, because it tends to in-
troduce confusion and disorder into
the existing institutions ; and besides,
its principles easily make converts
among the lower classes of the peo-
ple, because they are most prone to
innovation.

Admitting that Rapp quitted his
native land under such circumstances,
and took with him many adherents
of the sort just mentioned, still it

does not follow that he, and perhaps
many others, acted without due con-
sideration. From the very limited
nature of his circumstances, indeed,
he could not clearly anticipate what
he has since achieved ; he was ac-
tuated by a spirit which was deve-
loped only by subsequent events.
The history of the Old World records
the names of those who have, in a
similar manner, upon a large scale,
exalted themselves into leaders and
sovereigns, or operating in a narrower
sphere, have made themselves and
their families for ages the lords over
others ; but it seems to be reserved
for the history of the New World to
name those peaceful conductors who,
like William Penn, led forth freemen
to a wild land, and sacrificing them-
selves for the general weal, directed
all their thoughts and efforts to its
promotion.

The soil of the new settlement is
chiefly dry, fertile, and slightly sandy.
The Society, which at first consisted
of about 200 souls, numbered, in the
middle of the year 1822, 747 per-
sons, and is gradually increasing.
The state of Indiana is so far from
being unhealthy, as it has been re-
presented in Europe, that its popu-
lationhas augmented during the short
period since its foundation to 150,000
souls.

From the success of this experi-
ment, are we not authorized to infer,
that the plans which Mr. Owen of
Lanark has been for some years past
zealously endeavouring to carry into
execution, are not quite so chimerical
as they have been generally consi-
dered ?

I am, &c.

Philanthkopos.

London,

Dec. 1, 1823.

REMARKS ON THE PRESERVATION OF THE POPULAR
TRADITIONS OF THE GAEL.

TO THE EDITOR.

SlK,

I am one of many readers who
have been delighted by your Gaelic
Relics. Every lover of nature, and
every admirer of heroic sentiments,
must be charmed with strains, whose
modulations come from the nerve,
the pith and sinews of exalted cha-
racter; and to convince you, that
not only the sons of the mountains,
but also their southern neighbours,
are desirous of preserving those pre-
cious remains of ancient genius, those
portraitures of mind and manners in
times of yore, I send you an extract
from the Neiv Edinburgh Review,
No. viii. for April 1 823, which con-
tains an able critique on Colonel
Stewart of Garth's second edition of
Sketches of the Highland Charac-
ter.

" We think, in the first place,
that the superstitions of the High-
landers, we mean of course their an-
cient creeds, are exceedingly inter-
esting, and ought to be collected be-
fore it is too late. Martin has given
us just enough to make us wish for
more. To deride the superstitions of

any people is to deride the history of
the human mind. It can never be
unimportant to know what man has
believed or feared. Dr. Smith has
given us the tale of the fair Mego;
Pennant, that of the aged Brera;
Mrs. Murray, the Highland" Cin-
derilla: what we desire is, the whole
of this store ; for, aught we know,
it may be now perhaps too late : we
are very sure it will be so in half a
century. Had Macpherson not blazed
out as he did, the fragments of Os-
sian would not be known as they
are, and it is possible they might be
forgotten by this time."

The preceding extracts are but
detached portions of this liberal-
minded article. The whole deserves
an attentive perusal ; and it is to be
hoped, that, before these lines have
met the public eye, the writer, who
so earnestly recommends to Colonel
Stewart to make a collection of the
traditions of the Gael, may be ap-
prised that several have appeared,
and are in progress to be preserved,
in the Repository of Arts.

Antiquaiuanus.

THE EXPLOITS AT SAVENDROOG.

On the 8th December, 1791, three
horsemen galloped to the base of
the rock named Savendroog, or, in
the Mysore dialect, the Rock of
Death. One threw himself from
the saddle, and by severe exertion
climbed the steep ascent; while the
others, with unabated celerity, re-
turned towards Seringapatam.

From the advantages of its situa-
tion, the fortress of Savendroog was
deemed impregnable : during the so-
vereignty of Hyder Ally and his son
Tippoo Saib, the defences were
strengthened by able French engi-
neers ; and the noxious atmosphere
was known to be so fatal to European
constitutions, that the garrison de-

;32

THE KXTLOITS AT SAVENDKOOG.

spised and derided the temerity of
the British commander, who was said
to menace a siege of their inaccessi-
ble heights. The rock towered more
than half a mile in perpendicular
elevation above its base, in two cliffs
almost perpendicular; and on the
summits, all the resources of art had
been employed in continuing the lines
of fortification which commenced at
the base, a circumference of eight
miles, encompassed by morasses and
forests nearly impervious, except
where a road to the capital had been
conducted with laborious ingenuity
under shelter of the trees by wind-
ings and passes, rendering an ap-
proach to the rock extremely diffi-
cult without a guide.

The three horsemen we may sup-
pose to have been well acquainted
with this route, as they advanced,
and two returned, with such expedi-
tion: the third, by arduous effort,
reached the first out-post of the lower
foi'tifications, called for the officer
commanding that guard, spoke a few
words to him, and sunk down ex-
hausted, to rise no more. All was
now in motion along the ascending
line of posts ; messengers were seen
to strain every nerve in hastening to
the highest peaks of the rock ; and
squadrons of infantry marched at
quick pace to the redoubts that ter-
minated the road from Seringapatam.
They had hardly time to draw up en
bataillon, when twenty -five horse-
men dismounted in front of the ar-
ray, and after a hasty refreshment,
were borne in palanquins to the up-
per stations of the fortress. By the
earliest dawn, the troops had a con-
firmation of the rumour, that Tippoo
Sultan, attended by French officers,
had come to inspect the works and
the discipline of the garrison, having

received intelligence that a British
army, by forced marches, would bear
upon Savendroog in a few days.

Tippoo Saib minutely surveyed
the fortifications and reviewed his
troops; then commanding them to
wheel into a circle in files, twelve
men deep, around a temporary plat-
form covered with embroidered silk,
he ascended the steps of this stage,
followed by the French officers in
full uniform, and with their unsheath-
ed swords in warlike attitude. Si-
lence deep and awful prevailed, and
after a pause of some minutes, the
sultan dropped a dark cloak, and
stood before his soldiery on a gilded
pedestal, seven feet in height, blaz-
ing in all the insignia of royalty and
military command. Drawing his jew-
elled scimitar, he flourished the wea-
pon as he spoke :

" Unconquered soldiers of My-
sore! the pale-faced men of Europe
are marching to their graves at the
base of our Hock of Death. Every
leaf on the lofty and numberless trees
of our far-extending forests is armed
for their destruction ! Every stag-
nant pool in our morasses sends forth
vapours more fatal than the fire and
smoke which impel our cannon-balls
to sweep away their ranks ! Yet, offi-
cers and soldiers of the mightiest
empire on the face of the earth, be
it your glory, by valorous vigilance,
discipline, subordination, and intre-
pidity, to prepare for them a discom-
fiture from your own arms ! The
sultan will distinguish and reward
the brave. The sultan will also pu-
nish every neglect or deficiency in
the discharge of duty. Return to
your respective stations, and when
the climate and your prowess have
annihilated the pale-faced Britons,
and the wild ravagers of the forest

THE EXPLOITS AT SAVENDROOG.

have devoured their carcases, the
sultan will distribute abundant re-
wards to all that are fuund to deserve
his favour."

Tippoo retired amidst the accla-
mations of his soldiery, and assum-
ing a new disguise, took the road to
Seringapata l, attended by the trusty
cavalcade \c led to Savendroog. His
spirit-stii ing harangue had full ef-
fect upon U.V, s«irrison; the vigilance
of the officers and men had no re-
mission; and on the 10th of Decem-
ber, their scouts gave notice, that a
British army, preceded by indefati-
gable bands of pioneers, were mak-
ing terrible progress in cutting their
way through a part of the forest
which hitherto had been considered
impenetrable, as the enormous trunks
f the sylvan giants were closely in-
terwoven by prickly climbing plants.
Next morning, before sunrise, Colo-
nel Stewart and his undaunted bri-
gades had scaled the rock, and car-
ried by assault all the compartments
of the fortress, without the loss of a
single man.

The attack was so unexpected,
that the Mysoreans, who looked only
for a regular siege, were occupied
i •. preparations to resist to the last;
and they exulted in the certainty,
that the climate would prove an auxi-
liary, before whose empoisoned shafts
the Britons must fall, long ere the
stores of ammunition and food in the
fortress of Savendroog could be ex-
pended. Colonel Stewart was aware
that the climate would operate as
the only unconquerable foe ; and he
accordingly abridged the process of
his warfare. When he summoned
the garrison to surrender, they were
panic-struck by finding they had to
cope with an enemy capable of achiev-
Vol. HI. No. XIII.

ing supposed impossibilities; but they
attempted to accomplish by treache-
ry the destruction of the victors,
though they also must be involved in
the same fate. A British soldier ob-
served a Mysorean skulking towards
the powder-magazine of the grand
parade, with a concealed bulk un-
der his cloak. The soldier rushed
forward, and tearing open the enve-
lope, found two lighted matches,
which he extinguished under his feet.
In a moment he was furiously assault-
ed by several of Tippoo's soldiers,
and must have been killed, if his wife,
who never separated from him, had
not called for help. The soldier de-
fended himself till a sufficient force
disarmed the Mysoreans. Their of-
ficers denied any participation in this
enterprize, and gave them up to pu-
nishment for violating the terms of
capitulation.

We leave them in the hands of
British justice and clemency, and re-
turn to the soldier, whose conduct
and bravery prevented the tremen-
dous explosion. A sentiment of deep
interest in his recovery pervaded the
British army. He was the only man
who had been wounded; his blood
was shed to avert the loss of many
lives; on former occasions his cou-
rage and presence of mind were con-
spicuous, and all his behaviour me-
rited not only approbation but re-
spect. He was lodged in a lofty
apartment, detached from the noise
of military movements, and every
accommodation was provided for him
and his wife.

They had arrived with recruits for
the — regiment of foot, a short time
previous to the opening of the cam-
paign: the commanding officer of
these new levies, who alone knew any

TIIK EXPLOITS AT SAVKNDUOOG.

thing of them, died on his passage to
India, and they were strictly reserved
concerning their own private history.
Henry Rutledge was, however, soon
distinguished for the most exact per-
formance of duty, and in more than
one engagement had displayed the
most admirable qualities of a soldier.
He was offered a halbert; but with
expressions of due acknowledgment
he declined that promotion, request-
ing leave to remain as a volunteer,
until he should earn by his services
the honour of being ranked with
commissioned officers. He and his
wife had all the appearance of ha-
bits acquired and confirmed in a su-
perior station: yet, when persons of
that description come among stran-
gers, without vouchers for their cha-
racter, they are liable to unfavoura-
ble conjectures, and time only can
acquit them of suspicion.

With the most civil and obliging
deportment to the soldiers and their
wives, Henry Rutledge and his
spouse scrupulously avoided all ten-
dency to familiar intercourse. Mrs.
Rutledge worked with her needle, or
wove bobbin lace ; and in every inter-
val between the calls of duty, her
husband sketched patterns or wound
thread for her elegant manufacture,
or amused her by reading aloud, and
playing on the flute or clarionet. They
conversed in a foreign language,
which some of the soldiers who had
served abroad imagined to have the
German accent; and in the camp or
the field of danger, Mrs. Rutledge
endeavoured to keep sight of her
better self.

When the regiment was first or-
dered on service, Rutledge entreated
his wife to remain at Madras, and
the only favour he ever asked of his
captain was, that he would vouchsafe

his advice on this head. The worthy
veteran accompanied him to Mrs.
Rutledge's lodging, and represented
to her the untried evils she must en-
counter if she attended the march
of the regiment. She implored him
not to oppose her humble but fixed
resolution. She would give no trou-
ble, and might be useful. Hardship
or peril she was prepared to meet,
and could endure any suffering, ex-
cept being torn from her husband.
Rutledge assured her, that to carry
away with him the certainty of her
comfort and health being secure
would give him spirits to act with
greater energy. She turned upon
him a look of affectionate reproof,
saying, " Henry Rutledge ! when I
became yours, you swore never to in-
sist that I would separate from you
even in the field of battle. I claim
the performance of that solemn en-
gagement. If you leave me, I shall
lose my reason or my life. I can
but die if I go with you, but I shall
die happy; and, O Captain Bay-
grove, if you hope, by the blessing
of God, to be restored to your lady
and daughters, have pity on a friend-
less stranger, and let me live or die
undivided from my only protector —
my husband !"

This appeal to his conjugal and
paternal tenderness could not be re-
sisted. Captain Baygrove nominated
Mrs. Rutledge among the soldiers1
wives who were to follow his compa-
ny; and this ladylike adventuress was
seen on foot, shading herself from
the sun with a parasol, or on a bag-
gage-waggon, screened by an um-
brella; but always when the division
to which Rutledge belonged made a
halt, she was by his side. She kept
pace with him in ascending the rock
of Savendroog, and, as she had

A CHRISTMAS PARTY.

prognosticated, was useful, for her
cries brought succours to her hus-
band in time to intercept the My-
soreans who ran to kindle other
matches, when Rutledge extinguish-
ed those first intended to explode
the powder-magazine.

Thus every circumstance that re-
lated to the heroic pair became a
subject of discussion at the mess-ta-
bles; and the surgeons never visited
Rutledge unaccompanied by officers
of the different regiments, who were
desirous of seeing him and his wife.
They always found Mrs. Rutledge
in attendance. She courtesied to them
with involuntary grace, and her coun- j
tenance, the index of sorrowful anx- 1
iety, evinced a total abstraction from |
self — a disregard to every consider- j
ation except the danger and distress ;
of her husband. When he was de- |
clared to be convalescent, the gen-

tlemen wished to draw his wife into
conversation, but she answered only
in monosyllables, and without any
breach of respect, shewed them she
was determined to maintain a strict
reserve. The patient was informed
that his services being represented to
the commander-in-chief of the army
by Colonel Stewart, he was imme-
diately appointed ensign, and a few
days afterwards promoted to the rank
of lieutenant. Mr. and Mrs. Rut-
ledge expressed their grateful feel-
ings in terms that proved how highly
they were qualified to support the
place in society to which they were
deservedly raised. The officers re-
tired, leaving the happy pair to in-
dulge in mutual gratulations ; but in
the evening it appeared that joyful
emotion had caused some access of
fever to the patient.

(To be concluded in our next.)

A CHRISTMAS PARTY.

Till'" DINNER.

" Captain von Pfittersiiausen,
as I'm alive !" exclaimed, with goggle
eyes and nut-cracker jaws, my old
acquaintance, Mr. Walter WafHe,
the ship-broker, as I turned the cor-
ner of the Post-Office archway in
Lombard-street, whither I had sped
my steps from Panton-square in the
Haymarket, to insure the safe con-
veyance of three pages of foolscap to
my dear Frederika at Wolfenbuttel,
circumstantially detailing the wound
at the battle of Toulouse, and the
consequent amputation above the
knee-joint; but consoling her grief
by the news of the liberal pension
which, with half-pay and Spanish
prize-money, would in six weeks' time
enable me to fly to her arms, to be
for ever united to the most graceful

of her sex. It was at a ball at the
Casino my eyes first beheld her beau-
tiful form, and received from her
looks the silent assurance of favour.
Like Luna and her terrestrial com-
panion in the firmament, we whirled
swiftly and gracefully in amatory
loveliness round the splendid saloon,
the admiration of strangers and envy
of friends. Frederika was the beau
idial of waltzing. Would she had
been less partial to that bewitching
pastime ! !

Alas ! my three pages of foolscap,
for the safe conveyance of which to
Wolfenbuttel I had sped my steps
from Panton-square in the Haymar-
ket to Lombard-street, remained a
dead letter, until Schwartz, the inva-
lid corporal of von Detholm's com-
F 2

A CHRISTMAS PARTY.

pany, shewed some bowels for my
corporal and mental anguish, by
informing me, with corporal - like
naivete, that I must give up all
thoughts of Miss Frederika, by rea-
son of my incapacitation from future
participation in the sports of salta-
tion : " for," said he unanswerably,
" your honour will allow that waltz-
ing on three legs is inconvenient and
unsightly; and so Miss Frederika, I
understand, has determined to waltz
to the temple of Hymns in as perfect
a way as Counsellor Ninihoffer's heal-
thy pedestals will let her."

O woman ! woman ! !

Fortunately for me, these deadly
tidings were yet hidden under the
veil of futurity, when at the corner
of the archway in Lombard-street my
old acquaintance, Mr. Walter Waf-
fle, the ship-broker, exclaimed, with
goggle eyes and nut-ci*acker jaws,
" Captain von Pfittershausen, as I
am alive ! Dear me, a leg the worse
for valour ! Well, well, better a leg
than a head ; great saving in stock-
ings and shoes, washing, and Day
and Martin's. One ball goes as far
as two."

O the broker-feeling ! What a
sympathizing soul !

Nay, peace to the manes of the
broker ! Mrs. Waffle's iron rule, af-
ter breaking his head once or twice
a week during a term of years, I am
sure broke the heart of invoices and
charterparties ; for Mr. Walter Waf-
fle has freighted his last cargo in the
church-yard of St. Leonard's, Shore-
ditch, where the bill of lading of
pure marble, endorsed by his discon-
solate spouse, enumerates all the par-
cels of virtues and mental endow-
ments that are to be entered free of
duty on t'other side the Styx.

" Mrs. Waffle," said the good man,

" will be delighted to see an old
friend of mine ; you must come and
dine."

" What, married ?"

" Aye, and to the best of women,
a young widow of forty-five or so;
six thousand down, an annuity of two
hundred, three children well provid-
ed for, and two of our own for the
present. We have got a little rum
in urby at Bethnal Green, with a
spare sofy-bed ; you must come and
see us. By the by, where do you
spend your Christmas-day, captain?"
— " At home." — " Nonsense! We
shall expect you to dinner, four
o'clock ; don't make it later, that we
may have time for a little music and
a rubber : we always have cards on
Christmas-day. Perhaps there may be
a little of the footing it too — (dear
me, I did not think of your casualty ! I
ask a thousand pardons): never mind,
we shall kill the time, I warrant you.
You German gentlemen like cards,
and Mrs. W. knows how to entertain
her friends : her first husband, the
sugar-baker, kept the best of com-
pany. Excuse me, I must run upon
'Change : so then, Christmas-day at
four o'clock, or as much sooner as
you like. Here's my card, though
every body knows Walter Waffle's
in Wilmott Grove, Bethnal Green.
God bless you, captain \ A propos,
if you like to come in your rich-
mentals, so much the better. Mrs.
W. delights in the military. Good
bye, don't forget, four's the hour !"

It was not till after inquiries and
laborious turnings and oaths innu-
merable, that the soaked charioteer
of hacks discovered the domicile of
Mr. W. Waffle, " whom every body
knows," by a brass plate indicating
name, surname, and profession, peep-
ing from under the shade of a portal

A CHRISTMAS PARTY.

of lattice-work, of enlivening and
rural verditer, of the size of a sen-
try-box. The front court of the
" ruin in urby" had lost some of its
best charms at this inclement season
of the year: yet a cypress in the
middle of an elliptical well-boxed
parterre, surrounded by a curious
mosaic of oyster- shells, washed clean
by the incessant rain, and a neat pri-
vet-hedge within the rails, proclaim-
ed the taste of the possessor.

No sooner had the coach halted,
than the clangor of the steps enabled
me to make some preparatory ac-
quaintance with a great part of the
family and of the neighbours : some
•prim faces in the first floor kept
eying the settlement of the fare ; and
the windows in the second were lined
with the three darlings " well pro-
vided for and the two of our own."
The exterior attractions, indeed,
seemed to have made them forget
the better opportunity of internal
inspection : two successive knocks
produced no other effect than bustle
and confusion within, until a matron
voice, from the stairs, sent forth a
seasonable admonition to the careless
crew below; adding, with becoming
indignation, " Sally, why don't you
take them pattens down in the kitch-
ing? Would you have the captain
break his other leg too ?"

The peremptory tone in which
these orders were conveyed, rendered
it quite natural that." them pattens"
should be taken down before the
" French" gentleman was taken into
the house. After a little further
compliment of the season therefore
under the pervious porch, to the
great detriment of my single silk
hose and pump, admittance into the
interior of Mr. Waffle's domain was
granted ; the aperient party running

before me, to announce the murdered
name of my ancestors under the guise
of Captain Bickerstaff'.

This erratum being forthwith
amended through the kindness of my
old acquaintance, the broker of ton-
nage and primage, introductions
showered upon me more plentifully,
but less tangibly, than the previous
rain under the verandah. All was a
mumble-jumble of nouns proper of
the masculine and feminine gender,
in which they had greatly the advan-
tage, inasmuch as " Captain Ffitters-
hausen" was told over and over seven
times, but the names of the seven
reciprocities most unbecomingly slur-
red over to me; so that, excepting
those of Mr. Jones and of Mr. and
Mrs. Smith — which sounds had met
my ears before — the rest of the com-
pany remained non-descripts to my
intellects till the festivities had con-
siderably " progressed."

Mrs. Biffin, a short inangular and
vastly inquisitive lady from Mile-End
Green, whose neighbour, in the ex-
pecting circle, chance had destined
me to be, asked many questions
about the battles and skirmishes on
the Spanish " main," protesting that
she should not mind seeing Mr. Bif-
fin return with a leg the less from
such glorious deeds as must have
been achieved by the gallant Captain
von Pfittershausen ; and inquiring, by
the way, whether I were any relation
to the famous Baron Munchausen,
whose travels she had had from the
library, but believed to be for the
most part a pack of .

From these importunities I was
happily released by the seasonable
interposition of the lady of the house,
the widow of " forty-five or so," a
comely anthropophagan countenance
of male aspect and dark complexion,

A CHRISTMAS TARTY.

yet over-rubicund withal — (alas! I
then foreboded Mr. Waffle's fate!)
That a teint thus favoured by nature
should resort to the saucer to exhi-
bit a complete rouge et noir, could
only be accounted for by the "plus
habet, plus opted"' The reverse,
however, was probably the case with
the auburn ringlets which hung, in
profusion, but dry and ochry, from
the Brussels cap adorned with pop-
pies and passion-flowers of Italian ar-
tifice. Mrs. Waffle, in a delicate man-
ner, condoled with me on the loss I
had experienced, hoping that in the
end my constitution would be ?/-astly
benefited by the " catistroph." " I
suppose, captain," she added, " you
are of the Protestant persuasion? —
I thought as much! — Now if I may
ask a foolish question, when a mis-
fortune like yours occurs in the ar-
my, do they give the limb a Christian
burial?"

" Dinner's on the table" was a wel-
come relief; for Mrs. Biffin had join-
ed the chatechization by asking whe-
ther in case of computation the king
found the wooden leg, which it were
a shame if he did not.

Every gentleman now took the
hand of a lady in a very becoming
and solemn manner, to hand her
down to the parlour, but owing to
the narrowness of the staircase, the
advance took place en echelons; pa-
rallel motion being out of the ques-
tion. It was somewhat ludicrous to
see the shifts and squeezes to con-
form to this piece of etiquette ; and
the parlour of Mr. Waffle's " rum in
urby" being of too snug dimensions
to hold multum in parvo, a sort of a
pit-door crowd accumulated in the
passage, until the clever dispositions
of the lady within afforded a gradu-
al vent to the stoppage.

Whether it was by an unlucky fa-
tality, or from a desire of doing me
honour, the seat assigned to me was
within half a yard of half a bushel
of Hepburn's main, crowned by a
blazing " Christmas log," on which
occasion, Mr. Basil Jones, the packer
of Camomile-street, flatteringly re-
marked, that he felt sure this was
the first time that the baron turned
his back to fire.

Although the table seemed to
groan under a butcher's shop of enor-
mous joints, Mrs. Waffle politely
apologized for the scantiness of the
fare, and more especially for the ab-
sence of a Norfolk turkey, which the
brother of her late husband had pro-
mised, and she was sure had actual-
ly expedited, but which had not ar-
rived this morning so late as eleven
at the Spread Eagle in Gracechurch-
street, unless Mr. Faffle, whom she
had sent three times about it, had
made one of his usual blunders; for
one, he confessed, had been offered
him there, with the direction three
parts torn off, and he was too consci-
entious forsooth to take him home.

" The name, my dear, began with
a V, as I told you," rejoined Mr. W.
in his own defence ; " and would you
have me commit a robbery knowing-
ly ? May the bit "

Mrs. W. did not suffer the defence
to proceed, she had not patience
with such finical qualms. — " Allow
me to help you to a spoonful of war-
myshell soup, Captain Bitterhouse;
'tis of my own making, and I hope
you will find it good. I never trust
them nicer things to the servant.
You will find it warm you."

Warm me! What with the fire at
my back, and the essence of pepper
I swallowed within, not to appear un-
civil, my frame began to burn with

A CHRISTMAS PARTY.

fever. In this state, a general invi-
tation to the ladies to take a glass of
wine operated as a welcome relief
to my parched gutturals. Here the
respective parties, having first eyed
each other with affectionate solemni-
ty, cut a most demure face, and nod-
ded their heads with slow gravity, a
manoeuvre which I imitated with tole-
rable success' in favour of the lady of
the house.

" How d'ye like this wine, cap-
tain?" exclaimed the self-complacent
Mr. Waffle. — " Very pleasant drink ;"
and so it was, indeed, in my situation,
for all its India-rubber twang. — " I
think it is: a better glass of cape you
will not find in London ; I had it out
of the Docks and bottled it myself;
'tis equal to any sherry."

Among the immense store of ani-
mal food which graced the festive
board, and which at a moderate
computation would have fed twice
our number for a week, nothing-
gained more admiration than a colos-
sal mound of roasted beef. The
praises lavished on this mass of flesh
were expressed with a sympathy and
inward feeling, which a person, igno-
rant of the object, would certainly
have taken for commendations be-
stowed on a friend or a near rela-
tion. Mr. Philpotts, one of the quo-
rum, triumphantly asked, " I say,
captain, have you ever seen such a
bit a beef at Wolfenbuttel?" — The
usual stale puns were called forth by
a pickled tongue served as a relish to
four boiled fowls, so mature in years,
that Mrs. Waffle herself candidly
vowed, they should be the last Mo-
ther Shephard sold at her house. It
was therefore no wonder that Mr.
Basil Jones should anticipate some
indemnity from the sight of three or
four pair of pigeons' claws projecting

out of a crusted dish in the centre.
On his expressing his heart's desire,
Mrs. Waffle kindly asked, if any
other lady or gentleman chose to taste
the pigeon-pie ; and no affirmative
answer being received, Mr. Basil
Jones was politely informed, that if he
particularly wished it, the pie should
be cut, although strictly speaking it
was rather intended for supper. Mr.
Jones, of course, was too much of a
gentleman to press his request.

At this time, the maid whispered
a confidential communication in her
mistress's ear, which, from the appal-
ling effect it produced, seemed to im-
port a sudden calamity in the family.
" There now, Mr. W." exclaimed the
disconsolate spouse, " the mince-pies
are not come ! You would not let me
make them ; you must forsooth order
things in town, which I could have
made better, and for a quarter of the
money. Have you ordered them or
not, Mr. Vaffle?"— " Ordered them,
my love, at half-past four precisely,
and paid for them too." — " Paid for
them !" ejaculated Mrs. W. in an ago-
ny of distress. Here a note of prepa-
ration for the benefit of Mr. W.'s fu-
ture guidance appeared to be fairly
on its way ; but whatever its intended
import may have been, her overpow-
ered feelings stifled every kind of ut-
terance, except a deep sob or two,
accompanied by a gentle tear, furrow-
ing its way over the crayon carna-
tion.

A female's tears, even on mince-
pies, could not fail to awaken all our
sympathies; we spoke comfort all of
us ; we protested that after such a
dinner, the delicacy in question must
have remained untouched ; and we
succeeded by soothing words to re-
cover in some degree Mrs. W.'s spi-
rits, and restore the general harmo-

A CHRISTMAS PARTY.

ny of the festive board. — " Thank
heaven," exclaimed Mrs. W. " I have
not trusted the pudding to his ma-
nagement too! It has a little crack,
owing to the cloth bursting, but you
will not find it the worse for that." —
Here the ladies entered upon a mi-
nute inquiry as to the quantum of in-
gredients employed to produce so
vast and yet so perfect a specimen
of culinary art, and I ventured to
beg the favour of being furnished
with the written prescription for its
confection, in order to transfer the
mystery to my countrymen at Wol-
fenbuttel. My request not only was
most obligingly promised to be at-
tended to, but contributed wonder-
fully towards exhilarating the ruffled
spirits of our hostess, which resum-
ed their buoyancy to such a degree,
that she promised to cut me a slice
to take home to Panton-square, to
eat at my leisure, cold or broiled.

In removing the cloth, Sally, iri
her zeal to whirl with expedition
through the narrow space left for her
evolutions, had the misfortune, for I
pitied her more than myself, to drop
a tumbler with brown stout right on
my back, the thorough saturation of
which, with caloric from Hepburn's
main and the Christmas log, was such
that it preserved me totally from tak-
ing cold, and moreover gave rise to an
interesting physical phenomenon; for
in less than half a minute, the va-
pours ascended as visibly as from a
Greenwich stage-courser on a frosty
morning, and induced Mr. Basil
Jones, the packer of Camomile-street,
to observe facetiously how " smoking
hot" the baron's birth must be !

With the dessert were introduced
the junior branches of the family,
the " three of her own" being accom-
modated near the widow of " forty-

' five or so," and the two little Waf-
fliu<is taking their station near their
papa. The channels from which the

| several dainties proceeded were mi-
nutely and faithfully enumerated by
Mr. Waffle, inasmuch as he had pur-
veyed them in propria persona —
the oranges from Levy Lyons in Up-
per Thames-street; the apples from
Leadenhall-market; and the almonds
and raisins were samples presented
him by his friend a fruit-broker.
Whencesoever all these delicacies
came, they seemed to be provided
for the benefit of the junior branches,
who fell upon them with unceremoni-
ous appetite, while the senior mem-
bers regaled themselves over currant,
raisin, and orange wines in healths in-
numerable, a solitary decanter of port
in the middle of the table being unac-
countably neglected by the master of
the house.

Not being accustomed to these
home-brewed delicacies, the appear-
ance of a bottle of champaign promis-
ed some consolation ; but when asked
how I liked it, sincerity compelled me
to hint, that Mr. Waffle's wine-mer-
chant had not altogether done him
justice; upon which he cast a tender
glance at his better half, and said, with
arch significancy, " My wine-mer-
chant, captain, has never yet done
me injustice: the champaign you are
drinking is of her own making, and I
defy any man to distinguish her goose-
berry-wine from real champaign : in-
deed, it's better than most of what
we drink in this country as such.
Take another glass, my good friend,
it will do you good!"

During this time, the zealous com-
petition of the little innocents for the
good things had fairly waxed into a
scramble, and little Jessy, in her ea-
gerness to outdo her elder brother,

TIIJi SHOPS OF PARIS.

unluckily disturbed the centre of gra-
vity of my full glass of British Eper-
nay. The liquid stream, with na-
tional antipathy, instantly made its
way to the mazarine blue of Mrs.
Philpotts1 French silk dress, and the
sudden leap she was mechanically in-
duced to perform on the occasion,
only lengthened the streaky current.
Some half phrases obscurely mutter-
ed, of which the words " brats" and
" done for" were all I could distinct-
ly gather, evidently shewed that this
lady did not meekly bear her misfor-
tune. To do Mrs. Waffle's brewing
justice, I doubt whether real cham-
paign would have been equally pow-
erful in its effects, inasmuch as be-
fore the ladies withdrew, which was
but a few minutes later, the seric gar-
ment distinctly exhibited the factious
colours of blue and orange in great
perfection.

This untoward accident, no doubt,

hastened the departure of all our fair
companions : a general rising, bowing,
and squeezing ensued; after which
our host, asserting a degree of au-
thority which in the presence of his
better half he had generously waved,
marshalled his friends in new groups,
and exhorting all present to a free
and easy joviality, gave toasts and
bumpers in rapid succession. Mr.
Jones's nostrils had for some time
pantomimed a sense of smelling, which
although equally palpable to my ol-
factory nerves, I had the good-breed-
ing to suppress, until our friend in-
formed us, that it was proceeding
from Mrs. Waffle's smoking a ladies'
cegar, which her delicate health had
obliged her to resort to for a length
of time, and which he had no doubt
was the means of preserving her
alive.

( Tea and Cards in our next.)

Alexander the Great took the
trouble to conquer the world merely
to make the Athenians talk of him.
To make the Parisians talk for a day,
that would be a world too much, but
for a year together, a world too little.
To accomplish this, it would be ab-
solutely necessary to lose the world
after conquering it. For a person to
make himself conspicuous in this gi-
gantic capital, where, as in a vast
ocean, wave is incessantly urging
wave, no little practice is required —
but in that particular not a single na-
tive is deficient.

In other countries charlatanerie
is the crutch of lame merit; here it
is the necessary chasing, without
which the most brilliant diamond

Vol. III. No. XIII.

THE SHOPS OF PARIS.

would not attract the most superfi-

cial glance. To the praise of the
Parisians it must be admitted, that
they know how to appreciate every
good gift, and even virtue, but then
it must make a noise : modesty itself
wins their applause, if it understands
the art of speaking without moving
its lips. The artifices employed by
each in his sphere to set off his per-
son and properties to the best ad-
vantage, would fill a large volume.
I shall here only take some notice of
the means used by shopkeepers to
attract customers.

In those parts of the town where
the theatres, the promenades, and
other places of public resort are si-
tuated, where in consequence most
G

the shops of paius.

foreigners reside, there is scarcely
any house without a shop. The
powers of attraction must be played
off to a minute, to a step; for a mi-
nute too late, or a step further, and
the passenger is before another shop,
in which he finds the articles which
he is seeking. Your eyes are, as it
were, forcibly taken captive; you
must look up, and stop till they re-
turn. The name of the shopkeeper
and his trade is written ten times
over above the doors and windows ;
the exterior of the shop looks like a
schoolboy's copy-book, in which the
few words of the copy are incessantly
repeated. It is not sufficient to ex-
hibit patterns of stuffs, large rolls of
them are hung before the door and
windows. In many instances they
are fastened high up the second floor,
and descend twisted in all sorts of
forms to the very pavement.

The shoemaker has the outside of
his whole house painted with shoes
of all colours, drawn up en bataillon.
The locksmith's sign is a gilt key six
feet high ; the mighty gates of heaven
would not need a larger. On the
hosiers' shops are painted white stock-
ings four yards long, which in the
dusk are enough to frighten people,
when they may easily be mistaken for
gigantic spectres flitting by. Thus
has every one a prodigious hook even
for the smallest fish that he intends
to catch.

But feet and eyes are arrested in
a more agreeable manner by the
paintings which are hung up in front
of many shops, and in general fur-
nish representations allusive to the
trades carried on in them. These
paintings are not rarely real works of
art, and if they were exhibited in the
gallery of the Louvre, connoisseurs
would pause before them, if not with
admiration, at least with pleasure.

They are at the same time charac-
teristic sketches of Parisian life, and
the study of them is therefore equal-
ly instructive and entertaining. I will
briefly describe a few that have struck
me.

The shop of a dealer in shawls is
graced by a picture containing seven
figures of the size of life: it bears the
superscription — Au Sekment. Three
men are reaching several shawls to
three ladies, and at the same time
making with their hands motions of
solemn asseveration. They swear
that these are genuine French shawls,
and may well add, that good French-
men abhor English commodities, for
an Englishman in the back-ground
casts angry glances at the patriotico-
mercnntile triumvirate. Such is the
obvious meaning of the picture, which,
however, had formerly a secret sig-
nification. Till within these two years
the shawls offered to the ladies were
white, red, and blue, and the gentle-
men of the shop swore that these
were the genuine colours cherished
by every Frenchman; but by com-
mand of the hypochondriac police,
which is afraid of every breath that
blows, the shopkeeper was obliged
to have one of the colours erased.

Before. the house of a wig-maker,
not far from the preceding, is a
painting, which, though ill executed,
conveys a curious idea. Absalom,
the prince royal, is seen hanging by
the hair from a tree, in which situa-
tion he is run through the body by
an enemy's spear. Underneath are
these lines :

Contcmplez d'Absolon le deplorable sort!
S'il eut porte perrucpue, il evitait la mort;

which may be thus Englished :

Beware the fate of Absalom,

Who ran a dangerous rig :
For certes, he had saved his life

Had he but worn a wig.

THE SHOPS OP PARIS.

Another very well painted picture,
representing a girl who lias won the
prize at a rose-feast, receiving the
crown on her knees from the hands
of a gentleman, decorates the shop-
door of a marehande des modes. The
girl looks so innocent and devout, that
young persons without experience, of
whom, however, there are none in
Paris, might be deterred by it, and
induced to pass on and buy their
gloves at another shop.

A dealer in birds draws attention
by a painting representing Noah's
ark. The whole prologue of the de-
luge is comprised in it. The ark lies
quite comfortably on dry ground,
waiting till the water shall come to
set it afloat. Father Noah is playing
with an ape, and looks very cunning:
lie alone knows what is about to hap-
pen. The four-footed animals are
coming in endless procession to save
themselves in the ark. They walk
two and two, but without any regard
to rank, as is usual in cases of emer-
gency: the lion follows the horse, the
fox precedes the ass, and the hare
trots after the dog.

I have been particularly amused
by a picture which a professor of the
German language, and to judge by
his name, a native of Germany, ex-
hibits before his residence in the Pa-
lais Royal. A man in the prime of
life, no doubt Mr. Professor himself,
is sitting in an arm-chair, with a book
in his hand, hearing a boy who stands
before him say his lesson. A little
farther back sits a young female of
extraordinary beauty, and behind
her, bending over her chair, stands
an officer of the Red Hussars, who,
according to all mimic probability, is
making a declaration of love. The
girl is pointing with her finger at a
place in the book, and the French
hussar, with his hand on his heart,

seems to be pronouncing after her :
IcJc Hebe (Ich Hebe, I love). The
professor himself seems to have pro-
fited by his residence in Paris, for in
his own country he would never have
acquired the assurance to make
known by a show-board that he kept
a school for mutual instruction be-
tween young females and officers of
the Red Hussars.

I must not omit the shop of M.
Franchet, jeweller, in the Rue Vivi-
enne. The workmen were employed
six months upon this shop, and the
happy mortals who had the good for-
tune to get a peep behind the cur-
tains that were hung before it, could
not sufficiently extol the wonderful
sight. At length, about three weeks
before the birthday of the little Duke
of Bordeaux, the shop was opened.
I should have observed that M.
Franchet is jeweller to the Duchess
of Berry. This shop, a room of at
the utmost 20 feet in length, cost
40,000 francs; such is the magnifi-
cence with which it is fitted up. Over
the entrance from the street there
are two coats of arms, painted with
great care, encompassed in gold cir-
cles. One of these coats emblazons
the united arms of the houses of
France and Naples; those in the
other are of a rather mystic nature.
They are the points of crystallization
of future glories, embryos of king-
doms, crowns in the egg-shell — in
short, something more is meant than
meets the eye ; but it has all some re-
ference to the Duke of Bordeaux.
The political representatives of other
powers, who understand their busi-
ness, will certainly not have failed to
send forth their spies to discover
whether something edifying and in-
structive may not here be decypher-
ed.

G 2

PICTURE OF A NORWEGIAN BISHOP.

The Journal of a Tour through
Norway in the year 1817, by Mr. F.
Boie, gives the following curious pic-
ture of a Norwegian bishop, whom
the author chanced to meet with in
the island of Tiotoe.

The wind increased in violence, it
began to rain, the sea ran very high,
and we were compelled to land at
Tiotoe. Wet through with rain and
the spray of the waves, and chilled
by the wind, we here felt with dou-
ble force the comfort of the patriar-
chal custom of not shutting up the
house even at night, but giving a hos-
pitable reception to the stranger,
without so much as inquiring his
name or his errand. The island is
considered as the finest property north
of Numedalen: indeed, few houses
in Drontheim can compare with the
magnificent mansion of M. Brodkorb ;
and you may imagine how surprising
such a phenomenon must appear in
these parts. We requested the ser-
vants not to awake the master of the
house; and though unknown and
wet, were conducted into the hand-
somely furnished apartments appro-
priated to strangers, where we pass-
ed the rest of the night in an ill-hu-
mour at this new delay. I was, in-
deed, apprehensive of being obliged
to remain longer here, recollecting
an anecdote which was related to us
concerning the late owner of For-
viig, who, on the arrival of strangers,
caused the rudder to be taken from
their boat, that he might detain them
at least so long as it would require to
make another.

Previously to breakfast we were
introduced to the family, the pro-
prietor of the island and his son, who
is likewise married. About noon a

t portly man, whose whole person had
i at the first glance something uncom-
monly imposing, entered the house.
! He wore a short jacket, and we
J should scarcely have guessed whom
I we had before us, had we not been
apprized that it was Mr. Krogh von
Belsvaag of Alstenoe, the right chi-
valrous Bishop of Nordland, to say
nothing of his Danish and Swedish
orders of knighthood. He had on
a hat, jacket, and breeches of goat-
skin, the genuine Norwegian mari-
time dress; and a bold and almost en-
thusiastic seaman, he had just come
up from the Fierring, attended by
only one young fellow. He is a hand-
some man of seventy, though appa-
rently much younger, and who can
still make so free with his constitu-
tion, that being too warm when in
company at Christiana, he rubbed
his face and breast with snow. He
has lately been to that city, where he
sat as a member of the Storthing.

He speaks French and English flu-
ently, and during the war with Eng-
land, he once endeavoured to profit
by the latter in order to make prize
of a hostile ship off Drontheim. A
vessel namely was discovered, that
was manifestly unacquainted with the
channel, and which it was of course
considered could be no other than
an enemy. General consternation
ensued : Krogh quickly formed a plan
for running the ship ashore; disguis-
ed himself, and rowed in a boat on
board the supposed privateer, pre-
tending, in order to gain confidence,
that he was an English sailor who
had escaped fx'om a wreck. His plan
succeeded according to his wishes ;
but it presently turned out that the
ship was not an enemy, but a native

UOYAL OCCUPATIONS IN THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY.

4,"

vessel, and the affair terminated in a
hearty laugh.

On another occasion, the bishop
thought to surprise some visitors
whom he expected. Perceiving their
sailing-boat at a distance, he swam
towards her, and concealed himself
among the sea -grass on a jutting
cliff*; a joke for which, however, he
had well nigh paid dearly, for one of
the company, mistaking him for a
seal, was just going to point his gun,
when the bishop deemed it advisa-
ble to make himself known.

We heard many more such-like
anecdotes of this prelate, whenever

he became the subject of conversa-
tion. His blunt jovial manner, which
in the capital produced a general
prepossession in his favour, cannot
derogate in the least from his episco-
pal character in his diocese : it would
be extremely difficult to find a per-
son better suited to the post. Here
example alone can operate powerful-
ly; and how could the Norwegian
feel such enthusiastic affection and
respect for a bishop, who neither
knew how to brave the sea, the pe-
culiar element of the people, nor to
accommodate himself to the manners
of the country I

ROYAL OCCUPATIONS IN THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY.

TO THE EDITOR.

Sin,

In your last Number you have
introduced a brief description of an
entertainment given to our Charles I.
followed by a just animadversion on
the puerile taste of the age which
could relish such frivolities. What
sentence, then, ought to be passed on
the amusements which were the de-
light of a French monarch only half
a century earlier?

The favourite occupations of Hen-
ry III. consisted in dressing his own
and the queen's hair, and in starch-
ing and plaiting his own ruff and
that of his consort. These employ-
ments took up so much of his time
on the day of his coronation, and af-
terwards on that of his nuptials, that
the procession could not repair to
the church before six o'clock, and
the lateness of the mass caused the
Te Deum to be forgotten to be sung.
At balls and other diversions, he ap-
peared habited as an Amazon, in fe-
male attire, with his bosom uncover-

ed, and a collar of pearls hanging
down upon his breast. He wore be-
sides, like the ladies of his court, a
small toque, over which he himself
frizzed his hair, and three bands of
fine linen, two of which were plaited
into ruffs, and the other inverted.
These bands occasioned the remark,
that his head looked like that of John
the Baptist presented to King Herod
upon a charger. When Sully was
admitted to an interview with him in
1586, he had a toque on his head, a
tippet on his shoulders, and a broad
ribbon round his neck, from which
was suspended a basket full of pup-
pies.

As Henry assumed the female at-
tire, so he enjoined the ladies of his
court to adopt the dress of men.
They were obliged to obey, and at-
tended at a grand entertainment in
male apparel made of damask of two
different colours.

Notwithstanding these follies, Hen-
ry III. introduced into the eticpiette

LISBON AND THE PORTUGUESE.

of the court many regulations, which
continued for a considerable time af-
ter his death. He made the dress
worn on extraordinary occasions by
members of the Parliament much
more splendid than it had ever been
before. He set the first example of
mourning in black on the death of
his brother; the Kings of France
having previously been accustomed
to wear violet-coloured clothes for
mourning. The ladies mourned for
husbands and lovers in brown appa-
rel, with death's heads or floods of
tears painted or wrought in gold on

their collars or bracelets. By way
of second mourning, they exchanged
the death's heads and bones for mi-
niatures of the deceased, which they
wore at their breasts, but which were
still surrounded with representations
of showers of tears.

Had Henry's character betrayed
no worse propensities than these
puerilities bespeak, it would have
excited pity, instead of being devot-
ed, as it is, to universal abhorrence
and execration. I am, &c.

HlSTOlUCUS.

LISBON AND THE PORTUGUESE.

(Extracted from Letters written in 1821 and 1822.,)

Nov. 1821.

The Portuguese apply to their
capital the well-known saying, " Who-
ever has not seen Lisbon has not
seen any thing beautiful." Many of
them are even perfectly well disposed
to believe the assertions of their his-
torians, that Lisbon was founded by
Ulysses, and Setuval, a port not far
from it, by Tubal, the son of Noah.
Be this as it may, we must do Ulysses
the justice to admit, that he shewed
great judgment in his selection of a
site for the capital of the Lusitanian
monarchy.

Situated in the 38th degree of
north latitude, Lisbon enjoys a heal-
thy climate, neither too hot nor too
cold, a fertile soil, delightful envi-
rons, and a favourable position for
the commerce of the old and new
world. The majestic Tagus, on the
shore of which the city stands, about
twelve miles from its mouth, is capa-
ble of admitting the largest fleets,
and ships of war of all demensions
can lie at a short distance from the
quays. In some parts the river is

rather narrow, but towards the east
end of the city it forms a spacious
bay, which, however, is not very safe
for vessels in the winter season.

The city, built upon hills, extends,
with the suburbs, nearly nine miles
along the river; and that portion of
it which is on the left bank presents
a view that is highly picturesque.
In general, it is irregularly built, with
the exception of that part which was
destroyed by the earthquake of 1755,
and succeeded by handsome regular
streets. To this quarter belongs a
fine square, composed entirely of pub-
lic edifices, which are not yet quite
finished. To these belong the Ex-
change, the Custom-House, the In-
dia-House, the offices of the six mi-
nisters, the Junta of Commerce, the
Town-House, and several courts of
justice ; and in the centre of the square
is an equestrian statue in bronze of
King Joseph I. The south side of
the square is bounded by a fine quay ;
on the west begins the great arsenal ;
and from the north run three regu-
lar, broad, and pretty long streets to

LISBON AND THIS PORTUGUESE.

the Rocio-square, which has recent-
ly acquired some political celebrity
from the assemblage of the troops
who complied with the call of their
comrades at Oporto. Here too stood
the structures in which the Inquisi-
tion and the Regency had fixed their
respective seats. The dungeons of
the former are demolished, and with
their ruins the Rocio-square has been
levelled; even the statue represent-
ing Faith has been taken down from
the building, after long preparations.
A few days before its removal, I was
looking at these preliminary opera-
tions, when a person behind me re-
marked to another, " Christian Chari-
ty is already gone, Faith is going;
so that we shall have nothing left us
but Hope." In the middle of the
square, the foundation has been laid
for a monument commemorative of
the regeneration of Portugal*; but
unluckily the subscriptions have not
come in so freely as to allow the
work to be carried on with activity;
neither have I yet seen the plan for
this monument, but as a national con-
cern, it will of course be the work of
a native artist. A member of the
Cortes even proposed that the iron
railing, by which it is to be surround-
ed, should be brought from San
Faolo, in Brasil.

Near these two squares there are
several other regular streets; but the
old town presents a spectacle equally
irregular and disgusting. The nas-
tiness of the streets of Lisbon is known
all the world over, and there is no

* As these letters were written pre-
viously to the last political revolution in
Portugal, there can be no doubt that the
monument in question, if completed at
all, will be devoted to a purpose the very
reverse of its original destination.— Edi-
tor.

sort of filth but is allowed by the po-
lice regulations to be thrown out of
the windows after ten o'clock at night.
How often this operation is perform-
ed without the three warnings re-
quired by law, or how frequently it
may take place at an earlier hour
than it ought,' may be conceived by
those who are acquainted with the
supineness of the police. Dead dogs,
cats, and even asses and horses, may
be seen lying in the streets for days
together. Some of the streets have
sewers, and others none. Troops
of dogs without owners rove about
in quest of food; and when they meet
with a scanty supply, you are disturb-
ed the whole night by the howling
of the hungry creatures. The French
killed thousands of these beasts; but
in the present filthy state of the
streets, the Portuguese consider them
as necessary animals; so that at every
open shop you see a bucket of water
placed for these destitute creatures,
lest they should perish with thirst.

About ten o'clock the streets of
Lisbon become quite dull, and in
this particular it forms an exception
to all the large cities of the south of
Europe. All the shops without dis-
tinction, all the taverns and coffee-
houses must then be shut up, agree-
ably to the regulations of the police ;
universal silence pervades the streets
at the hour of ten, and during the
rest of the night, it is only here and
there that you meet persons return-
ing from the theatre or from private
parties.

Robbery and murder are not rare,
especially in winter. The town is
tolerably well lighted. The pave-
ment is throughout wretched, and
the public squares are not paved at
all: in some of them, previously to
the entry of the French, there were

LISBON AND THE PORTUGUESE.

mountains of dirt. To their credit
be it observed, that out of the con-
tribution of two hundred millions of
crusadoes which they imposed, they
expended two hundred thousand on
cleansing the city.

The dwelling-houses are commo-
dious; but as for specimens of beau-
tiful architecture, Lisbon has nothing
of the kind to produce. Whoever
has seen the churches and convents
in Italy, can derive little gratification
from those of this capital. In num-
ber indeed it may equal any city of
Italy; but for architecture, sculpture,
paintings, and works of art in ge-
neral, the Portuguese edifices are
far inferior. One of the most spa-
cious convents in the heart of the
city is S. Francisco de Cidade, or as
we might justly transpose the name,
Cidade de S. Francisco, because it
is almost large enough for a city.
The poor mendicant monks have col-
lected by begging money for build-
ing a church, that is to equal, as they
say, St. Peter's at Rome ; but which,
with the exception of the bare walls
and the facade, will probably remain
for ever unfinished ; for the monks
have lost all their influence under
the new system, and few persons will
now lend money in expectation of re-
ceiving it back with interest in the
next world.

The largest of the churches is that
of St. Domingo, but besides its mag-
nitude I have not been able to find
in it any thing worthy of notice. The
newest church and convent is that of
Estrella, erected by the late queen,
Donna Maria I. and dedicated to
the Heart of Christ; because all the
saints were supplied with churches,
and a more worthy object could not
be found for a patron to so pious a
foundation. The good queen ex-

pended millions in obtaining from his
holiness the consecration of a festival
to the " Heart of Christ ;" and she
expended millions more upon a church
and convent, which are still unfinish-
ed, and not worth the sums lavished
upon them.

Upon the whole, there are very
few public buildings in Lisbon which
are completed; and it is a trait in
the character of the Portuguese, to
begin every thing on a grand scale,
and to leave it unfinished. Thus in
Pombal's time a building was be-
gun with magnificent subterraneous
vaults, and carried up a few feet
above the surface of the ground : it
was intended for the public Trea-
sury, and a large sum was spent upon
it; but the whole is now covered
with rubbish, and its completion is
never thought of. It is to be sure
much Aviser to leave it as it is ; for
no such magnificent exterior is re-
quired for an exchequer so empty as
that of Portugal now is.

The new royal palace of Ayuda —
out of Lisbon — is begun upon a very
large scale, but not more than about
a third of it is yet finished. They
have been working at it God knows
how many years ; and 400,000 cru-
sadoes are allotted annually to the
works, not for the purpose of pro-
viding the king with a magnificent
residence, but that thousands of per-
sons may not be destitute of bread.
Situated on an eminence above the
castle of Belem, this palace com-
mands a noble view ; but it has evi-
dent faults in the architecture, which
cannot fail to strike the spectator who
has seen any edifices of the kind.
In the entrance and fore-court, situ-
ated on the east side, Portugal pur-
posed to display the talents of her
sons in sculpture ; but unluckily these

MUSICAL •RKVIKW.

artists engraved their names on the
pedestals of the statues, in order to
render themselves immortal together
with their works. In my opinion, it
would have been much more judi-
cious, if, instead of their own names,
they had favoured the public with
those of the deities whom they de-
signed to represent, for some of them
absolutely require this sort of expla-
nation.

At the foot of the palace is situated
the old Gothic tower of lielem, at a
place where the Tagus is narrowest,
and where of course it may the more
easily command ships with its can-
non. Here the age of barbarism es-
tablished dungeons, which are an
everlasting disgrace to humanity.
Some of them are nut only under

ground, but constantly under water;
and here state-prisoners languished
out their lives, and died a lingering
death.

In the city there is nothing further
worthy of notice, but out of it, the
beautiful aqueduct of Alcantara,
which conveys water to Lisbon from
the distance of some leagues, must
not be omitted. Over the last two
hills arches of free-stone, the middle-
most of which is, I believe, 850 feet
high, conduct the water to a spacious
reservoir, which is adequate to the
supply of the city for several months.
This aqueduct is built with such so-
lidity, that not a stone of it was dis-
placed by the earthquake of 1755.
( To be continued.) ■

MUSICAL REVIEW.

PIANO-FOItTE.

Effusio Musica, ou Grande Fan-
taisie pour le Piano-forte, dediee
a M. Catel, Professeur au Con-
servatoire a Paris, par Fred.
Kalkbrenner. Op. 68. — (Clementi
and Co. and Chappell and Co.)
Mr. Kalkbrfnnku, we believe,
is a pupil of Monsieur Catel, as far
as relates to the science of music at
least, and he has here brought an of-
fering to his master, which is highly
honourable to both parties. If we
were to give an opinion in general
terms upon this fantasia, we should
say, that it exemplifies in a striking
manner the wonderful degree of per-
fection to which execution on the
piano-forte has been carried by the
present generation, and by Mr. K. in-
dividually: it also exhibits a pretty
complete epitome of most of the
Vol. HI. No. XIII.

higher harmonic combinations which
we are accustomed to expect in the
productions of the masters of the
art, Mr. Kalkbrenner having con-
centrated here the essence of the
best of the kind from the purest
sources, and infused over it the charm
of his own manner of treatment. In
these gleanings and recollections* and
imitations (of harmonic combinations
of the first order) we have recog-
nised several old friends, Mozart in
particular: the plaintive accents in
Donna Anna's great recitativo are
occasionally distinguished in the first
movement; the awful notes of the
spectre resound more decidedly p. 13 ;
and Rossini's vivacious style has pro-
bably had some influence on the pres-
to, p. 22.

In a fantasia an author does as he
pleases, and if a critic asks a ques-
H

MUSICAL IMiVlKWi

tion, he has a right to answer, " I
have done the thing so, car tel est
notre plaisir." In the present case,
therefore, if we sought for a greater
quantum of melody than Mr. K.'s
fantasia exhibits, he might with jus-
tice say, that his object was to write
a fantasia of deep and varied modu-
lation, and of scientific texture; and
that if now and then a cantable line
or two is given, such as in p. 8 (which
did our heart good after so much se-
rious and complicated harmony), the
critic has no reason to complain.
Mr. K. besides, might fairly refer us
to the fine adagio, p. 14, and justly
ask whether that was not melody the
most attractive, the most delicate,
and sensitive ? This it certainly is for
a little while; but then the fantasifi-
cation soon comes over it, and, Avith
the most consummate artifice, ren-
ders it highly seasoned for our plain
palate.

We had better be contented with
Mr. K.'s labour, such as it is ; for in
its kind it is excellent, nay, wonder-
ful: it would quite suffice, had he
written nothing else, to establish his
fame in every musical country, and
it will, vigorous as his days yet are,
outlive the author, we are sure.

That a fantasia of this description
will put the greatest executive pow-
ers to the test, may easily be ima-
gined. It is one of those pieces con-
cerning which Woelfl observed to us,
" Let dem learn it; I have been ob-
lished to learn it myself after I wrote
it." As a work for practice and stu-
dy, the fantasia deserves the notice
and unwearied diligence of the high-
er proficients. They will find dou-
ble parts for one hand, fugues, coun-
terpoints, and innumerable digital
niceties in abundance. A work of
this description ought to be carefully

read, and considered by portions, be-
fore a finger is put to the instrument.
A new Divertimento for the Piano-
forte, by Mayseder. Pr. 2s. 6d,
— (Boosey and Co. Holies-street.)
A seasonable relaxation to us from
the intense study which the consider-
ation of the preceding work required.
Mr. Mayseder is more of a violin-
player than a " pianiste." So much
the better, plenty of melody and less
intricacy; for a composer seldom is
found to write any thing more diffi-
cult than what he can master him-
self. This divertimento indeed is all
melody, clear as daylight, graceful
and unaffected, and of easy execu-
tion. It consists of an adagio and an
allegretto in D major; the former
full of tender expression, and the.
latter in a playful polacca style, with
abundance of pretty attractive ideas.
Mr. M. however, has evidently drawn
freely upon Rossini, at least as to
manner. The " minorizing" his ca-
dences for instance, and the whole
plan of the gradual accumulation of
bustle (from " piu mosso," p. 7), are
obvious Rossinisms. Mantis mannm
lavat. The gran maestro is not over
scrupulous either in these matters.
Cramer's favourite Serenata, ori-
ginally composed for the Harp,
Piano-forte, $c. arranged for the
Piano-forte, and dedicated to Mrs.
John Austin, by G. Kiallmark.
Pr. 4s. — (Chappell and Co.)
This being merely a compressed
adaptation of a serenata sufficiently
known, all that can be required of
us is, to say that Mr. K.'s arrange-
ment appears to be satisfactory and
effective. As the composition in-
gratiates itself with the ear, and the
extract by Mr. K. is not difficult, his
labour no doubt will meet with a fa*
vourable reception.

MUSICAL KF.VIJIW.

" The Lisle," a French March, adapt-
ed for the Pianoforte, with a Co-
da and Rondo, composed by J.
M' Murdie, Mus. Bac. Oxon. Pr.
2s. 6d.— (Clementi and Co.)
The march in E b, and trio in
A b , are fairly brought forth, except
that their bass is a little stiff* and
unvariedly monotonous. In the co-
da, two or three well-chosen chords
produce effect. The rondo is but a
variation (with some digressive por-
tions) of the march itself, and hardly
that, for time and melody very nearly
are the same. In the form of rondo,
however, the air tells well. The
rondo has also a part in A b , into
which it slips rather by a licence. In
the 7th page the modulations do not
possess sufficient clearness of plan
and diction. The portions in C mi-
nor, and A b , p. 8, and the winding
up, p. 9, are quite satisfactory.

PIANO-FORTE VARIATIONS.

Of the compositions of this class,
numerous in the extreme as usual,
the following claim our notice:
Brilliant Variations for the Piano-
forte to the favourite Air " Ma
Fanchette est charmante" dedicat-
ed to her Serene Highness Ma-
demoiselle d 'Orleans, by Henry
Herz. Op. 10. Pr. 6s. — (Boosey
and Co.)

If our critical labours were to be
directed to none but variations of
this stamp, our dislike to this class
of compositions would soon be sub-
dued: indeed we then should proba-
bly be but seldom called upon to re-
view variations at all; for such as
these do not present themselves every
month.

Mr. Herz, we understand, is a
German professor, at present resid-
ing at Paris : this is the first work of

his Muse that has come under our cog-
nizance, and it is quite sufficient to en-
able us to knowour man. He belongs
to the few of the great school. With-
out fatiguing our readers with any
analysis of excellencies, we content
ourselves with assuring them, that
those whose skill is adequate to the
task — for there are difficulties to be
overcome — will find these variations
equal probably to the best in their
collection. They abound in every
feature which we expect to meet with
in works of classic pretension: more
we need not say.

Mr. Herz, we observe, has inter-
posed a Tutti between each variation;
a practice which, in some few in-
stances, has recently been adopted
by other composers of his rank, and
which is attended with excellent ef-
fect, even if the piano-forte alone
should be compelled to execute that
which, properly speaking, is intended
for a full band. These Tutti afford
a fine relief, and have the further
advantage of presenting us with an
additional portion of the composer's
own invention. They should, of
course, be all of varied import, yet
possess some features of general re-
semblance, akin in some measure
to the theme — unity and variety.
Mr. Herz's Tutti are of this descrip-
tion: they are beautiful; and, like
those of Mr.Moscheles,may be look-
ed upon as models.
No. XXIV. " Scots whd had wi'
Wallace bled " a celebrated Air,
with Variations for the Piano-
forte, Flute, and Violoncello; com-
posed, and inscribed to her Grace
Caroline Duchess of Richmond,
by J. Mazzinghi. Pr. os. — (Gould-
ing and Co.)

The accompaniments are ad libi-
tum. The variations, ten in number,
II 2

~>i

MUSICAL HliYIKW.

possess that fanciful ease and fluency
which the great experience and good
taste of Mr. M. lead us to expect as
a matter of course in any thing that
proceeds from his pen. The execu-
tion, also, is far from requiring ex-
traordinary exertions.
The much-admired Scottish Air,
" Let us haste to Kelvin Grove"
introduced in the Opera of " Guy
Mannering," arranged with Va-
riations for the Piano-forte, by
J. C. Nightingale, Organist of the
Foundling Hospital. Pr. 2s. —
(Monro and May, Holborn Bars.)
Caraffa's celebrated Cavatina " A ure
Felice," from " La Cenerentola"
arranged with Variations for the
Piano-forte, by the same. Pr. 2s.
— (Monro and May.)
The variations upon both these
themes are written in an easy familiar
style, and yet with a selectness in
point of ideas and treatment, which
will distinguish them from the rou-
tine productions of this class, so plen-
tifully dispensed to the public.

We should prefer the variations
upon the Scotch air, as exhibiting
more ease and fluency, perhaps even
gracefulness of diction, than those
upon Caraffa's cavatina. The cause
of this difference, we doubt not, lies
in the nature of the themes, and
more particularly of their harmonic
structure. Caraffa's, with all its fas-
cinating originality, exhibits some
heterodox progressions, such as C,
.", 5; D,3, 5, &c. which, when we first
heard the air sung by Signor Torri,
proved rather indigestible to our de-
licate scholastic organs, and which
indeed, as we observed in a former
Number, some conscientious varia-
tioner disdained following, substi-
tuting at once the more current C,
8, 5; G, 7, &c. But one gets used

to these things in time, and at last
thinks them extremely neat. It is
these questionable harmonies which,
when they come to be amplified
by variation, prove troublesome and
awkward in the management. This
difficulty appears to us to have
been felt in some of the variations,
No. 2. for instance ; and where the
authentic harmony is less adhered to,
as in No. 4. less inconvenience is
experienced, and the variation comes
out more round and satisfactory.
The waltz, No. 5. is in good style ;
and in the march which follows, as
well as in the coda, Mr. N. has been
very successful.

Having already encroached upon
our limits, we must be brief in our
notice of the Scotch theme. Most
of the variations, eight in number,
are of decided interest. The style
of No. 3. is fresh and select: the
demisemiquaver passages in No. 4.
are melodized with uncommon ease
and fluency : the waltz, No. 5. pro-
ceeds pleasingly, at least the first
part; the second is less smooth: the
little morceau of march, No. G. is
quite as it should be : the triplets
(No. 7.) well picked and assorted;
and the eighth variation terminates
the whole with effective energy.

What enhances the value of these
variations, is the ease with which they
may be executed. They are quite
within the reach of a good pupil of
a twelvemonth's standing'.

VOCAL COMPOSITIONS.

Vocal Anthology, or the Flowers of
Song. Part VII. Pr. 6s. — (Gale,
Bru ton-street.)

The contents of this number are,

a celebrated Madrigal by Orlando

Gibbons; two Scottish Melodies;

J Rossini's " Oh mattutini Albori;" a,

MUSICAL KKYII.W

beautiful Motett (" Rorate Coeli") by
tbe Abbe Vogler (to the biographi-
cal notice of whom we have to add,
that he died at Darmstadt in 1814);
Haydn's well-known Canzonet, " She
never told her love" (a perfect musi-
cal cabinet picture) ; a Song by Rei-
chardt; another by Carl Maria von
Weber, the author of the celebrated
opera " Der Freyschlitz" (the mag-
nus Apollo of modem German mu-
sic) ; and an original French Song by
Mr. Cather, of decided merit, tole-
rably, but not throughout, correct in
point of French prosody.
" Ah qual concento" Romance from

the Opera " Tebaldo e Isolina"

composed by Morlachi. Pr. 2s. —

(Boosey and Co.)

A new musical acquaintance, and
an important one, as far as the
name goes. Morlacchi, born at Pe-
rugia in 1784, and now, we believe,
Maestro di Capella at Dresden, has
numerous partisans in Italy, who pre-
fer him to Rossini. It would be pre-
posterous in us to form our estimate
of his merits from the first song; that
has met our eye. Rossini has writ-
ten many which are worse, and many
greatly superior. Thus much we can
aver for the present, that this romance
presents great freshness, delicacy, and
elegance of musical diction, without
absolute novelty of thought. The
idea of allotting to the voice a series
of interrupted sentences in recitative,
while the instruments proceed with a
regular and continued subject, and
eventually only to assign that subject
to the singer too, is of the happiest
effect. Some reminiscences from
WeigeVs " Schweitzer familie" (Swiss
family) are not to be mistaken. But
the composition as a whole is fasci-
nating. It has vocal passages of dif-
ficult execution; a circumstance which

should always induce publishers to
add, above the stave, an easier ver-
sion, so as to render the song more
generally accessible.
" In quel modesto Asilo," Duetto
Notturno per Soprano e Tenore,
compost 6, e dedicato a Mlla. A.
Beresford, da Val»»- Castelli. Pr.
2s. — (Boosey and Co.)
A vein of sympathizing tenderness
distinguishes this duet favourably.
The first strain proceeds in select
melodic combinations, not without
J some originality. In the 7th bar (p. 1,)
! we should have preferred contrary
motion in the accompaniment ; and if
there is to be G b in the second
crotchet, we should have minorized
the first too, by substituting C b for
C tq . In the second page, some hard
progressions present themselves in
the two places where the soprano
has " sospirera." But the duet, as a
whole, cannot fail to interest the
amateur.

Selection of Songs, Duets, fyc.from
t/te most admired German Operas,
with English Words by Thomas
Campbell, Esq. No. III. Pr.
Is. 6d. — (Boosey and Co.)
This number contains an air of
Beethoven with an English text by
Mr. M'Gregor Logan. Beethoven
has composed some most charming
j songs, and some of very inferior me-
rit. The present hardly belongs to
the first class ; indeed without the war-
ranty of the respectable publishers,
we should hesitate to ascribe it to so
great a master. Have his " Herz
mein Herz," his " Kennst du das
Land," not to mention several others
of first-rate beauty, been ever joined
to an English text?
" ' Tis not the beam of a languishing
eye" a Ballad, sung hy Mr. Bra-
ham at the Theatre Royal Drury-

MUSICAL KI.VIKW.

Lane, composed by N. C. Bochsa.
— Pr. Is. 6d.— (Chappelland Co.)
A pretty little song, of graceful
melody and simple yet effective ac-
companiment. Every thing is in good j
taste and keeping.

" The Sea-Boys Call" Canzonet, j
composed for, and dedicated to,
Miss Ann Shuttleivorth, by G.
Kiallmark. Pr. 2s. — (Chappell
and Co.)
" Send round the rosy cup" a fa-
vourite Song sung by Mr. Coul-
den at the London Concerts, Sfc;
written by Mr. J. E. Gifford;
composed by J. Monro. — (Monro
and May, High-Holborn Bars.)
" Can I forget," the admired Bal-
lad written by D. O'Meara, Esq.
sung by Mr. Pyne at the Theatre
Royal Covent- Garden, fyc. com-
posed by J. Davy. Pr. Is. 6d. —
(Monro and May.)
Without entering upon any com-
parison, which would greatly depend
upon particular taste, we briefly no-
tice the above three songs as possess-
ing claims, nearly equal, to the ama-
teur's favour.

In Mr. Kiallmark's, the Siciliana
is peculiarly attractive, and the ex-
pression at " Spring up, good breeze,"
extremely happy.

Mr. Monro's anacreontic effusion
has an agreeable, lively, and symme-
trical melody; all is devised with
taste and propriety.

" Can I forget," by Mr. Davy, is
rather high for common voices. The
motivo, and the whole of the first
vocal page, are tastefully devised, but
we should not have given to the
whole of the four commencing bars
the tonic harmony. From " That
loves to soften others' woe," our opi-
nion is less favourable. The musi-
cal diction is not sufficiently clear,

select, and impressive. Much more
might have been made of that part
of the text.

HARP.
" La Chasse au Renard," a charac-
teristic Fantasia for the Harp,
composed for, and dedicated to,
Miss H. E. Warneford, by N.
Bochsa. Pr. 4s. — (Chappell and
Co.)

The Fox - Chase of Mr. B. is a
highly characteristic and so very en-
tertaining a composition, that, we
make sure, it would have great suc-
cess under an adaptation for the pi-
ano-forte, which would require little
substantial alteration. The whole
of the incidents of the sporting ex-
pedition from " Daybreak" to the
" Death" (which latter, by the way,
is left to conjecture, but easily recog-
nised), are appropriately and very in-
telligibly depicted; and the composi-
tion, independently of its descriptive
interest, possesses decided musical
merit.

" Cruda Sorte," the celebrated Ter-
zetto in " Ricciardo e Zoraide,"
by Rossini, arrangedfor the Harp
and Piano-forte, expressly for the
Right Lion. Lady Caroline Ben-
tinck, by Cipriani Potter. Pr. 4s. —
(Booscy and Co.)
Mr. P. no doubt had his reasons
for allotting the brunt of action to
the piano-forte, and indulging the
harp with a very reduced portion of
execution. The latter instrument in
fact is here but one of accompani-
ment. With this reserve (perhaps a
welcome one to many harpists), we are
warranted in bestowing unqualified
encomiums upon the arrangement ; it
is most rich and effective.
" Grand Russian March" for the
Harp, composed, and dedicated

LONDON FASHIONS.

to Miss Burnett, by N. C. Boch-
sa. Pr. 2s. 6d. — (Chappcll and
Co.)

The march in E b , and its trio in
A b> are °f regular construction,
clear and good in melody, without
rising what we should call above the
par in good music.

The same remark applies to the
second piece, the " Mazurka," a Rus-
sian dance movement, resembling the
waltz in its musical character.
The favourite Air, " We're a nod-
din," with an Introduction and Va-
riations for the Harp by S. Dus-
sek. Pr. 2s. — (Chappell and Co.)
Second French Air arranged for the
Harp by the same. Pr. Is. 6d. —
(Chappell and Co.)
Miss Dussek, we presume. The
name of Dussek, so dear to us, is not
disgraced in its representative. Both
the publications are themes with va-
riations, and both are susceptible of
the same remarks. They are not,
and affect not to be, compositions
of the higher order; but they are
throughout conceived in good style,

correct, and certainly highly agree-
able. The introduction to the first
is particularly meritorious.

GUITAR.

Forty easy Pieces and Eight short
Preludes for the Guitar, composed
for the Use of Beginners by Fer-
dinand Carulli. Op. 1. (of Works
• composed in London.) Pr. 5s. —
(Boosey and Co.)
As the guitar is not our instru-
ment, our notice of this publication
must necessarily be confined to its
musical merit. The pieces are strict-
ly progressive, pleasing in point of
melody, and correct as to harmony.

Messrs. Boosey and Co. have pub-
lished two well-executed lithographic
prints, by Gauci, of Rossini and
Moscheles. The latter we know to
be a good likeness. Of the resem-
blance of Rossini we cannot yet
judge. Although the maestro is in
London, we have not yet bad an op-
portunity of seeing him.

FASHIONS.

LONDON

MORNING DRESS.

Twilled sarsnet or levantine high
dress, of a deep green colour, called
by the French eau de Nil : the cor-
sage fastens behind with hooks and
eyes ; is made to fit the shape, and
ornamented with perpendicular wad-
ded satin rouleaus of the same co-
lour and equidistant: broad satin
ceinture, with a uniform rosette be-
hind. Long tight sleeve, edged with
satin at the wrist, and fastened with
a satin band, the outer part formed
into a diamond, with a wadded knot

FASHIONS.

in the centre. Short full upper
sleeve, confined by satin rouleaus
placed longitudinally, and supported
with satin knots. The bottom of the
dress has six wadded satin rouleaus,
each headed with a narrow piping
formed into waves or festoons, and
supported with wadded satin knots ;
beneath is a broad satin hem: richly
worked collerette and ruffles. Bonnet
de jolie femme of British Mechlin
lace ; long strings of the same, trim-
med with lace like the borders, which
are drawn very full at the sides, where

ffi

GENERAL OBSERVATIONS ON FASHION AND DRFSS.

a bow7 of pink gauze ribbon is intro-
duced beneath the cap, being of one
piece of lace. The head-piece is form-
ed by two drawings, and ties behind
with pink satin ribbon: three sepa-
rate bows or puffings of broad shad-
ed pink gauze ribbon are placed in
front. Embossed gold ear-rings,
chain, and ci'oss. Buff-colour Mo-
rocco shoes, tied with ribbon of the
same colour.

PROMENADE DRESS.

Pelisse of levantine silk, or Terry
velvet, of a rich brown colour (cou-
leur d'oreille d'ours), made plain and
high to fasten in front, with a neat
standing collar, edged with satin of
the same colour. The velvet (velours
epingle), which promises to be very
fashionable this winter, has not been
worn for many years : it looks like
very narrow' cords, and forms elegant
trimmings for silk pelisses: the cein-
ture, which fastens with a gold buckle
in front, and the leaves and knots of
the trimming, are made of it. The
trimming is scolloped, and edged
with satin, having a pair of leaflets
introduced at each point through a
slit, which is bound with satin, and
reunited with a velvet knot behind
the leaves. The corsage is orna-
mented from the shoulder to the
waist, where the trimming approxi-
mates, and widens again in descend-
ing, till it reaches the ermine which
goes round the bottom of the pelisse,
and is a quarter of a yard in depth.
The long sleeve has a full epaulette,
ornamented with leaves, and the wrist
is trimmed to correspond. Bonnet of
the same material as the pelisse, lined
with the same, and the inside edged
with shaded velvet, rather more than
an inch broad : the front a la Marie
Stuart; the crown round, and rather
low, ornamented with velvet flowers

and bows of shaded velvet. Bonnet
cap of I Loniton, with very full bor-
ders fastening under the chin. Full
lace ruff and ruffles. Terry velvet
boots, the colour of the pelisse. Pale
yellow gloves, and a shell reticule,
with silver chain.

! GENERAL OBSERVATIONS ON FASHION

AND DRESS.

Our readers will have seen that
i our anticipations last month respect-
ing promenade and carriage dress
have been completely realized. We
have nothing new to say respecting
: the former, but we have some novel-
ties to describe in the latter, which
1 we consider worthy of the attention
I of our fair readers. The first is a
i pelisse of sea-green velvet, fastened

• up the front with Brandenburghs :

' the trimming consists of a row of
1 shells formed of corded gros de Na-
ples, of the same colour, placed be-
tween oblong satin puffs : this trim-
ming goes round the bottom and up
; the fronts. The collar is low7, and
ornamented with a single wreath of

• shells, and a small round pelerine is

\ trimmed to correspond with the eol-
I lar. The long sleeves are of an easy
| width, and are finished with shells at
l the hand. The mancherons are small;
they consist of two shells, which are
partially crossed on the shoulder.

The trimming of a high dress of
deep blue gros de Naples is singu-
larly novel : it resembles serpents
twisted together : the bust of this
dress is ornamented with straps,
which form a stomacher of the de-
mi-lozenge form. Full maucheron,
the fulness confined by straps,' so as
to form a demi-lozenge in front of
the arm. The corsage of another
high dress was made en cceur, the
shape of the heart being formed by
very narrow rouleaus of satin, with

GENERAL OBSERVATIONS ON FASHION AND DRESS.

rich silk, buttons intermixed. The
trimming of the skirt consists df gauze
bouillonnee, interspersed with satin
disposed in crescents.

We observe that high dresses be-
gin to be as much, if not more, worn
in carriage costume than pelisses.
The envelopes worn with them are
either cachemire shawls or large fur
tippets, and in many instances our
elegantes adopt both. Tippets are
worn extremely large, and long ones
are more in favour than round.

Bonnets now begin to be worn
larger, and black ones, both in velvet
and satin, are very prevalent. There
are two distinct styles which prevail
in this kind of coeffure, and both
equally fashionable. One is remark-
able for its extreme plainness, the
bonnet being altogether black ; that
is to say, it is lined with the material
of which it is made, and adorned with
superb plumes of black feathers. The
other style is as showy as possible ;
the bonnet and lining are black, but
the edge of the brim is corded with
crimson, or some other striking co-
loured satin: a full black knot placed
at the bottom of the crown is adorn-
ed in a similar manner, and the fea-
thers correspond with the colour of
the cords. We have seen also a good
many black bonnets with coloured
strings, coloured bands at the edge
of the brim, and adorned with gar-
lands of winter flowers. Rose-co-
loured gros de Naples, velours si-
mule, and pluche de sole, decorated
with white feathers, are also much in
favour for carriage hats and bonnets.
One of the most novel of the last has
a remarkably low crown, which is en-
tirely covered by a quantity of Ma-
rabouts, that surround and droop
over it.

Vol. III. No. XIII.

A new material, called Camelia,
is in favour in morning dress, but it
is not so generally adopted as poplin,
reps silk, or gros de Naples. The
newest forms for morning dress are
those which we have just described
in speaking of carriage costume.

Coloured satin begins to be much
in favour both in dinner and evening
dress: one of the prettiest gowns
we have seen in the former is of
crimson satin, trimmed with crepe
lisse of the same colour, mixed with
velvet. The trimming consists of
bouffants, which are formed at regu-
lar distances by velvet ornaments in
the shape of lions' paws. The cor-
sage of this dress is finished round
the top by a row of blond let in full,
drawn to the shape of the neck, and
finished by a row of very narrow vel-
vet points. Coloured tulle over co-
loured satin is still much in favour for
evening dress. White tulle, or white
crepe lisse, is more in request for
ball dresses. Some of the newest
trimmings for these latter consist of
bouquets of lilies formed of the down
of the Marabout, and interspersed
with branches of laurel-leaves in vel-
vet. Another pretty style of trim-
ming is a chain of various flowers of
the smallest size, which are fancifully
unwreathed in drapery folds of gauze
or crepe lisse. Waists are still worn
very long, and the corsage in even-
ing dress is cut extremely low round
the bust; sleeves rather short, and
in general very full. Toques and
turbans are, as we predicted, much
in favour with all but very youthful
belles, who adorn their tresses with
flowers or pearls. Coloured gems are
much in favour with elegant matrons.
The most novel ear-rings in gold
have the pendant in the shape of a
I

.08

FRENCH FEMALE FASHIONS.

heart, exquisitely wrought. Brooches
of rather a large size set in gold,
forming a flower surrounded by fo-
liage, are also much in favour.

Fashionable colours are, maroon,
bright crimson, damask-rose colour,
dark chesnut, lavender, and fawn co-
lour.

FRENCH FEMALE FASHIONS.

Paris, Dec. 18.

My dear Sophia,

Our promenade costume this
month is nearly what it was when I
wrote last, except that furs have be-
come more general; that is to say,
fur tippets and trimmings for dress-
es : for muffs are not at all used by
the French, but are generally adopt-
ed by all the stylish English belles,
of whom there are at present a great
number in Paris.

Bonnets are of velvet, gros de
Naples, and some new inventions in
silk plush. The latter have always
the same kind of ground, but it is
differently figured in quadrilles, lo-
zenges, or wolves' teeth. Black vel-
vet or satin bonnets are in favour;
they are in general trimmed with rib-
bons, shaded in strikingly contrasted
colours, and of a rich dark tint: there
are generally three colours in the fea-
thers of the bonnet, to correspond
with the ribbon.

It is this year the fashion to go
very much dressed to the spectacle:
redingotes habilUes are much used
for this purpose; they are composed
of gros de Naples or velvet, but
the latter is most fashionable. The
trimming is satin, with sometimes a
mixture of gros de Naples; it is ar-
ranged either in rouleaus, coaues, or
folds. If the redingote is of gros de
Naples, it is always of a very dark
colour, but trimmed with satin some
shades lighter. In some instances
the satin is of a different colour.

Shawls and mantles are in nearly

equal favour for the spectacle: the
most fashionable among the form-
er have a bright crimson or black
ground, with a high palm border, or
one en rosaces. A new material has
just been introduced for mantles,
which promises to become very fa-
shionable : it is composed of wool ; is
extremely fine, light, and soft; is
printed so as to imitate embroidery
very successfully, and is of sufficient
width to form a mantle without a
seam.

The alterations which have taken
place since my last in full dress are
mostly in head-dresses, some of the
most novel of which I will try to de-
scribe to you. The latest is the coef-
f ure a la neige: in this head-dress the
hair, disposed in a great number of
small curls, which nearly cover the
temples, and dressed very high be-
hind, has seldom any other ornament
than a pearl or diamond comb. In or-
der to form a perfect idea of this coef-
fure, you need only recall to your
mind the portraits of Marie de Me-
dicis, mother of Louis XIII. from
which this antique fashion has lately
been copied on the stage, and is now
generally adopted in the first circles.

Cocffures a V JLspagnol are also in
favour : the front hair is disposed in
soft curls ; the hind hair, knotted at
the ends with bows of black and rose
ribbon, is fastened up in a very large
knot on the crown of the head : three
large coqacs of rose and black rib-
bon placed behind this knot are par-
tially covered by a black blond veil,

FASHIONABLE FURNITURE.

which, falling on the shoulders, shades
the back of the neck.

It is now so much the fashion to
wear the figures of birds and ani-
mals in jewellery, that a wit, in speak-
ing of a merveilleuse the other day,
observed, that when she appeared
full dressed, her jewels offered a
good representation of a little mena-
gerie. Her bracelets and neck-lace

serpents, her ear-rings doves, a mouse
upon herring, a dog at her watch, her
girdle clasped by a butterfly, and up-
on her head a bird of Paradise.

Fashionable colours are, cocoa,
bear's-ear, mantle of Socrates, pon-
ceau, violet, deep blue, gold, and
rose colours. Adieu, chcre Sopliie!
Always your Eudocia.

FASHIONABLE FURNITURE.

A STUDY BOOKCASE AND MEDAL CABINET.

It is proposed to introduce to our
readers, through the present year, a
Series of new Examples of Furniture,
that may not only be useful as single
articles, but may benefit the general
manufacture, as they will be design-
ed, on correct principles, and fre-
quently in combination with the pro-
per decoration of the apartments to
which they are suited, and in con-
nection with useful accompaniments.

When due regard is paid to the
proportions of the relative parts in
such an article of furniture as is ex-
hibited in the annexed plate, it can-
not fail to please ; and when execut-
ed in suitable materials, and deco-
rated with propriety, it becomes an
ornamental appendage, not inferior
to the demands of the most finished
library, and for which purpose it
was made ; but more expressly in-
tended for the reception of gems,
medals, and minerals, than for books
merely; and also for portfolios of
drawings, prints, and such objects of
study which are not usually provid-

ed for in bookcases ; and it is so ar-
ranged as to form a complete piece
of furniture for the end of a room,
or, on the side, become a central ob-
ject between bookcases.

The manufacturer will immediate-
ly perceive that the parts are capa-
ble of separation, and that he may
form from them several handsome
pieces of furniture, according as an
apartment may need variety of form
and quantity.

Glass doors may be substituted
for those of the design, where book-
bindings are to be displayed; but in
general, curtains of cloth or silk, or of
other coloured materials, are more
ornamental, and more readily made
to harmonize with the wood-work.

The manufacture of British woods,
such as the pollard oak and elm, cut
transversely near the roots, is now so
well understood, and so beautiful
when thus applied, that they need no
other recommendation to the admir-
ers of superior furniture.

INTELLIGENCE, LITERARY, SCIENTIFIC, &c.

The first part of the Ceremonial of the
Coronation of King George IV. printed
by Mr. Whittaker, is just ready for pub-
lication. This work, designed for a spe-

cimen of typographical elegance not to
be surpassed, will be printed in gold let-
ters, and accompanied with portraits of
the distinguished persons who composed
I 2

INTELLIGENCE, LITERARY, SCIENTIFIC, &C

the splendid procession, in their respec-
tive dresses, richly coloured as drawings.
It will not only form the most splendid
specimen of the art ever produced, but
it will be of great importance to all who
were engaged in the magnificent cere-
mony, as a perpetual record of the ho-
nours which they enjoyed, their names
being given in the order of the proces-
sion. The names of the subscribers, at
the head of whom stand those of the roy-
al family, will also be printed in gold
letters.

A Narrative of a Tour through Parts
of the Netherlands, Holland, Germany,
Switzerland, Savoy, and France, in the
year 1821-2 ; including a Description of
the Rhine Voyage in the middle of Au-
tumn, and the stupendous Scenery of the
Alps in the depth of Winter ; by Charles
Tennant, Esq. is just ready for publica-
tion, in two 8vo. volumes.

Mr. Bowring and Mr. Van Dyk are
about to publish a volume of translated
Specimens of the Dutch Poets; with Re-
marks on the Poetical History and Lite-
rature of the Netherlands.

A Sketch of the System of Education at
New Lanark, by Robert Dale Owen, is
in the press, and will appear in a few days.

In the press, a translation of the Me-
moirs of Madame d'Epinay, written by
herself; comprising interesting details of
her acquaintance with Duclos, J, J. Rous-
seau, Baron Grimm, Diderot, Baron
d'Holbach, Saint Lambert, Madame
dTIoudetot, and other distinguished per-
sons of the 1 8th century, in two vols. 8vo.

The Highlanders, a tale, by the author
of " The Hermit in London," will short-
ly appear in 3 vols, foolscap 8vo.

Dr. Antomarchi, the physician ap-
pointed to attend Buonaparte after the
departure of Mr. O'Meara from St. He-
lena, has in the press, his Journal of the
last Moments of Napoleon, in an 8vo.
volume.

Mr. Fair, surgeon, and author of a
Treatise on Cancer, has in the press a se-

cond edition of a Treatise on Scrofula,
explanatory of a method for its complete
eradication, with remarks on the frequent
failure of this mode of treatment in the
hands of other practitioners, and other
important additions.

Mr. Washington Irving is reported to
have collected materials for an interesting
work during his recent Tour in Germany.

The Deserted City; Eva, a tale in two
cantos; and Electricity, poems by J.
Bounden, will shortly Le published in one
vol. 12mo.

ROYAL ACADEMY.

On the 10th December, being the An-
niversary of the Instituton of the Royal
Academy, a General Meeting of the
Academicians took place, when Sir Tho-
mas Lawrence presented the following
Premiums to the successful Candidates
in P^ainting, Sculpture, and Architec-
ture :

In Painting. — The Gold Medal, with the
Discourses of Sir Joshua Reynolds and West,
for the best Historical Composition : the sub-
ject — " The contention between the Archan-
gel Michael and Satan for the body of Moses,"
to Mr F. Y. Hurlstone.

Ditto in Scultture. — For the best Com-
position, to Mr. R. B. Hughes.

In Architecture. — The subject, the design
for a Hospital for Iuvalided Sailors, to Mr. T.
Bradbury.

In the School op Paintinc. — The first
Silver Medal for the best copy, to Mr. Cob-
bett; the second, to Mr. Marks.

The Silver Medal, for the best Drawing in
the Life, to Mr. Cahusac; the second, to Mr.
Hous. The Silver Medal, for the best Model
in the same, to Mr. It. Williams ; the second,
to Mr. Collingwood. The Silver Medal, for
the best Drawing from the Antique, to Mr.
G. R. Ward ; the second, to Mr. F. Ross ; the
third, to Mr. Cicele. The Silver Medal, for
the best Model from the Antique, to Mr.
Dear ; the second, to Mr. Stothard ; the third,
to Mr. Behnes. The Silver Medal, for the
best Die, to Mr. Stothard. The Silver Me-
dal, for the best Architectural Drawing, to
Mr. Rickley ; the second, to Mr. Jenkins.

The President concluded the ceremony
with an eloquent discourse.

Itoetvp:

From "TIME'S TELESCOPE" (an interesting Annual Work) for 1824.

LINES ADDRESSED TO BERNARD BARTON.

Walk on a little longer in thy path

Of sorrow and of toil : Time hath its bound,

Nor shoreless is the sea of human life.

Walk on a little longer in the faith

Of thy pure heart, poet and friend : thy path

Point? to thee onward. What's the world to thee,

And such as thou ? Cold, icy cold they he

Who look upon thee ; and their hearts as those

Whom in her lonely solitude of snow

Young Laila saw, and wept. Yet bear thou on,

Meek child of song! Are they not thine — the earth,

Green in its living beauty ; the lone sky,

The flow of waters, and the spirit that heaves

Beneath the ocean's depth ? Look up ! look up !

And on the gates of adamant, that close

The portals of thy life, look up, and read

What there is written — Faith and Hope. Hope then,

Hope that upholds the arch of Heaven, and Faith

As strong, be thine ; and thy reward shall be

The sabbath of a pure submitted mind.

Such be thy lot ! — Or does thy gentle heart,

That ever seeks communion with itself

Of all that's good and lovely — does it yearn

With thoughts of human kindness ? would it lay

Its sorrows on the pitying breast, and press

The faithful hand of Truth ? — Oh ! there be those

Who look upon thy path with eyes of love,

And watch thee, journeying by thy side, unseen.

Say, hast thou him forgotten, who of thee

Amid his lonely musings, by the depth

Of shadowy woods, or where his wakeful lamp

Gleams star-like through the midnight hour, has thought

With feelings that despondence cannot touch,

Though dark the shades of life that fall on him,

And pale his cheek with care ? —

Enough, enough ;
The very bread we eat is steeped in tears :
All has been offered by us at the shrine
Of Sorrow, yea the heart's best gifts, and still
The cup we drink is full. —

He too is thine
Who cross' d in early youth the ocean streams,
And oft, as round his tent the hot monsoon
Blew stifling the loose desert sands, his heart
Sighed, when his pleasant home by Bealings'* groves,
Amid each shelving bank and flowery coomb,
In dream or nightly vision to his eyes
Came like the voice of bliss. Each well-known spot,
The fir-grove, and the linnet-haunted copse,
Again he saw. The wild wood-lane, that wound

* The residence of Major Moor (author of " The Hindoo Pantheon"), a friend of Mr.
Barton's.

62 EXPOSTULATION: ADDRESSED TO BERNARD BAJITON.

By many a garden-plot and rustic fence,

They all were his ; and clearer now he sees

Yon ruined tower; — the church-spire shines! he knows

His own sweet linden-shade !

And are there not,

By Dehen's gentle stream and Orwell's shore,
Hearts of thine own, and tender as the thoughts
Of love itself, wishes, and hopes, and fears,
That flow to thee from hreasts as pure as truth,
And in that truth made strong ? E'en now of thee,
Amid her evening walk or morning meal,
Remembrance speaks, and voices from afar
Come to thee from the turf where Collins lies,
And where, through peaceful valleys as she glides,
Too early lost, her poet Lavant mourns.

Benhall, June 22, 1823. John Mitford.

EXPOSTULATION: Addressed to Bernard Barton.

A silent dwelling, hid from vulgar eye,
Amid its bowers of cedar mantled round,

Just hears, above, the gale of evening sigh,

Or Ocean breathe from out his depths profound.

And welcome was the hour, when to those glades
The gentle minstrel bent his willing feet ;

When, like the pensive genius of the shades,

He spread, beneath their boughs, his noonday seat.

There manhood met him with the hand of truth,
And greetings too from softer lips were there;

And e'en the frolic innocence of youth

Would half beguile him of his weight of care.

Then wherefore should the purple summer come,
And fill the bosom of the vale with flowers,

If neither song of birds, nor bees' wild hum,
Can win the bard to his forsaken bowers ?

For him unrolled each treasured volume lies,
Her evening-lute for him has beauty strung;

And haste, oh ! haste, the voice of friendship cries,
That oft in rapture on those lips has hung.

The primrose-tufts shall breathe along the plain ;

Her violet-showers shall soften' d April bring;
But shall these groves be vocal once again ?

And will the Nightingale return with Spring?

Benhall, Suffolk.

Printed by L.Harrison, 373, Strand.

THE

&epogttorp

ARTS, LITERATURE, FASHIONS,

Manufactures, fyc.

THE T H I R D SERIES.

Vol. III.

February 1, 1824.

N° XIV.

EMBELLISHMENTS. page

1. View of Pelling-Place, the Seat of Mrs. Bonneel, from the Lawn 6

2. Front View of Ditto .....

3. Ladies' Walking Dress .....

4.
5.
6.

Evening Dress

A Cabinet Dressing-Case

Muslin Patterns.

CONTENTS.

PAGE

MISCELLANIES.

Views of Country Seats.-- Pelling-Place,
the Seat of Mrs. Bonnell .... 63

The Confessions of a Rambler. No IV. 65

Exploits at Savendroog (concluded) . . 68

History of a Coquette 72

Some Account of Rossini, the celebrated
Musical Composer 74

Remarkable Instance of Legal Ingenuity 75

Lisbon and the Portuguese, extracted
from Letters written in 1821 and 1822 77

The Loiterer. No. VI 81

Gaelic Relics. No. IX. — Priomchial
and Caoimina

Points of Honour

On the Symptoms and Cure of the Tic
Douloureux 92

A Christmas Tarty.— Tea and Cards (con-
cluded) . . . . • 96

The Affectionate Wolf 103

Accountof Samuel Fancourt, the Fouud-
er of the first Circulating Library . 105

Dangerous Species of Nettle in the Kast
Indies (Extract of a Letter from a
French Naturalist) 106

To-Mdrrow. By Mr. J. M. Lacey . . 108

Anecdotes, Sec. Historical, Literary,
and Personal — The Patron of the
Lawyers — Winter Garb of Charle-
magne— The Temple of Mecca — Chi-
nese Cannibals— The Self-invited Guest
— Condescension of Genius — Alfieri —
A Poissarde silenced — Singular In-
stance of Insanity — Ingenious Deduc-
tion— Presence of Mind in a Female
Emigrant— Fashions— George Farquhar 110

MUSICAL REVIEW.

PIANO-FORTE.

Kawlings' the Foresters 114

Bruguier's First, Second, Third, Fourth,

and Fifth Divertimentos ib-

_- __ Overture to " Maid Marian" 115

64
119

ib.
123

I'AGE
PIANO-FORTE VARIATIONS.

Kiallmark's Second Divertimento

Scozzese 115

Gelinek's Variations ib.

Monro's " Valce Kovale" 116

ORGAN.

Adams's Three Voluntaries ib.

HARP.

Bochsa's the favourite Airs in the Grand
Ballet of " Alfred le Grand" . . . ib.

Brilliant Duet on the favourite

Themes in " Clari, or the Maid of

Milan" 117

VOCAL.

" Vocal Anthology, or the Flowers of
Song" ib.

Blanchard's" Le Depart du Grenadier" ib.

Harris's " The charmed Bark" . . . i&.

Banister's " I saw while the earth was
at rest" 118

Parry's ** Oh! Minstrel, that impres-
sive strain !'' ib.

Rossini's " Serenely o'er the waters
dark" ih.

FASHIONS.

London Fashions. — Ladies' Walking
Dress 119

Ladies' Evening Dress ib.

General Observations on Fashion and
Dress '. . ib.

French Female Fashions 121

Fashionable Furniture. — A Cabinet
Dressing-Case 123

FINE ARTS.

Panorama of the Ruins of Pompeii . . ib.

INTELLIGENCE,

LITERARY AND SCIENTIFIC . . ib.

POETRY.

A Soliloquy on the Approach of Winter 121
A Ballad &•

LONDON :

PRINTED FOR, AND PUBLISHED l?Y, R. ACKERMANN, 101, STRAND i
To whom Communications (post-paid) are requested to be addressed.

L. Harrison, Printer, 373, Strand.

TO READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS.

Publishers, Authors, Artists, and Musical Composers, are requested to transmit,
on or before the \5lh of the month, Announcements of Works which they may have on
hand, and we shall cheerfully insert them, as we have hitherto done, free of expense.
New Musical Publications also, if a copy be addressed to the Publisher, shall be duly
noticed in our Review ; and Extracts from new Books, of a moderate length and of an
interesting nature, suitable for our Selections, will be acceptable.

TVs promised favour has not reached our hands.

Had P. S. considered for what class of readers our work is more particularly
destined, he ?night have saved trouble to himself and us.

Q. has our thanks; but the Selections in question are not sufficiently select for our
pages.

No such paper as that alluded to by H. has ever been received by the Publisher.

Several articles of Literary Intelligence arrived too late for insertion this month.

Persons who reside abroad, and who wish to be supplied with this Work every Month as
published, may have it sent to them, free of Postage, to New-York, Halifax, Quebec, and
to any part of the West Indies, at £\ 12s. per Annum, by Mr. Thoknhill, of the General
Post-Office, at No. 21, Sherborne-lane ; to Hamburgh, Lisbon, Cadiz, .Gibraltar, Malta, or
smy Part of the Mediterranean, at £\ 12s. per Annum, by Mr. Serjeant, of the General
Post-Office, at No. 22, Sherborne-lane ; and to the Cape of Good Hope, or any part of the
East Indies, by Mr. Guy, at the East-India House. The money to be paid at the time of
subscribing, for either 3, 6, 9, or 12 months.

This Work may also be had of Messrs. Auijon and KitAr, Rotterdam.

THE

Btposttorp

ARTS, LITERATURE, FASHIONS,

Manufactures, 8$c.

THE THIRD SERIES.

Vol. 111.

February 1, 1824.

N°- XIV.

VIEWS OF COUNTRY-SEATS.

FELLING-PLACE, THE SEAT
JAMES1 13EAL

Pelling-Place, situated in the pa-
rish of Old Windsor, was formerly a
spacious cottage only, belonging to
Francis Pigot, Esq. nephew to Dr.
Pelling, Dean of Windsor, after whom
this seat was named by the owner.
On its coming into the hands of the
late Mr. Bonnell by purchase, he
considerably enlarged and improved
the house, which now consists of a
handsome suite of apartments: but
their principal charm consists in the
admirable decorations both of the
pencil and needle, chiefly the works
of Mrs. Bonnell; among which is a
capital portrait of that lady by Rom-
ney, in his happiest manner. The
same good taste and chaste feeling
that have rendered the house so de-
lightful, have been bestowed upon the
grounds with equal care ; all the va-
Vol ILL No. XLV.

OF MllS. BONNELL, RELICT OF
BONNELL, ESQ.

riety and beauty which the place can
possibly admit, without being over-
charged, here delight the eye.

Our First View of this House is
from the Lawn. The grounds to
the left rise in a bold form, covered
with wood and plantations, inter-
spersed with walks, seats, and other
pleasing embellishments. The walk
beneath the trees to the right leads
to a pavilion, simple and elegant in
its form, surrounded with wood and
flowering shrubs, admirably adapted
for the quiet recreations of a sum-
mer's day.

The walks wind round the pavi-
lion, through the shrubberies, to the
dairy, a sweet picturesque building,
with its Gothic windows and rustic
work; its pretty entrance, marble
tables, and pleasing accompaniments ;

PFXLIKG-PLACK.

its fanciful walls, its Wedgwood ware,
and shells. Its situation is truly ro-
mantic, surrounded with rich over-
hanging woods, through which the
walk continues to a fine terrace on
the brow of the hill.

In the centre of this terrace is an
octagonal building, partly surrounded
by wood, ornamental seats, and ivy :
it forms a tower of two stories, with
out-buildings, consisting of a grotto,
tea-room, and billiard-room. The
base of the tower is the grotto, cu-
riously ornamented with shell-work.
The entrance is an iron gate of fan-
ciful open-work. The tea-room com-
mands some superb views, embracing
the fine old castle of Windsor, the
Thames, and all its charms of woods,
elegant villas, and villages.

In crossing the grounds a descent
leads through a fine line of firs to
the Hermitage, a building so natu-
ral and so apposite, that the spec-
tator fancies the hermit will actually
make his appearance. It is situated
in a cell at the verge of the ground,
and is formed of roots and moss. The
little garden, book and bell, rosary,
cross, and sun-dial, all seem to confirm
the idea that this retreat is actually
inhabited : an oratory is attached; the
whole being in a rude Gothic form,
well according with its sequestered
situation. The entrance to his cell
is through a pretty porch: the cell
itself contains a globe, hour-glass,
lamp, and books, with a mug, trench-
er, and fruits. Connected with this
by a door made of moss is an inner
cell, matted: here in a rustic seat
appears the sage, a venerable per-
sonification of some of our finest de-
scriptions of the hermits of old. He
is seemingly poring over his book
and crucifix, surrounded by a lamp,
scull, beads, staff, a rude inkstand,
folio, and a glass of rosemary water.

Safe from the dancing sunbeam's midday

heat,
Here may the modern hermit fix his seat;
Nor, though no busy cares his mind annoy,
Bury one generous wish, one active joy.
Still let him be of social thoughts profuse —
Serene, not sour — retired, not recluse.
If his rapt heart would range religiop's

scope,
The power that guides his eye will raise his

hope;
While all around conspires to raise his love,
The world about him, and the heaven above.

These lines meet the eye above
the entrance of the cell. Over the
oratory are the following :

Come, gentle wanderer, sit and rest,
No more the winding maze pursue;

And those of solitude in quest,

Tause here and take the solemn view.

The mossy couch, the Gothic gate,
The hermit's sad and silent cell,

Warn thee of thy approaching fate —
Oh! fear to die, not living well!

On a tablet surmounted with a
cross, in the depths of the cell, lighted
dimly through a small portion of
stained glass, are the following lines :

The ev'ning sun was burning red,
The twilight veil spread slowly,
While the hermit near the wood,
Where long a little cross had stood,
Was singing vespers holy.

Then slowly he turned his head,
And watch'd the narrow wicket,

And shudder'd while the wintry blast,

In shrilly cadence, swiftly past
Along the neighbouring thicket.

From the Hermitage, the walks
extend to the flower-garden, aviaries,
and fish-pond, to the Front of the
House, shewn in our Second View
of this interesting place. There is a
pleasing novelty and snugness about
this front. The garden and lawn, with
their flowers and stately firs, form
almost a part of the dwelling, so in-
timately are they connected by the
verandahs and arched treillage, which
extend to the principal entrance.

THE CONFESSIONS OF A RAMBLER.
No. V.

Behold me in a new world, land-
ed in Baltimore, and an inmate of an
American hotel. It was on the 26th
of August that we arrived thus far
on our destination, and Mrs. Fitz-
herbert having dispatched letters to
Mr. Mortimer, who resided at Alex-
andria, I agreed to remain with her
till he arrived. This, in fact, was
settled before we landed ; for five
weeks' sojourning together within
the " cribb'd confine" of a ship's ca-
bin had made us better friends, than
perhaps five years' intercourse would
have done on shore. The remainder
of our companions were scattered
about in different directions. The
Scotchman " could na think of being
at an hotel when his mother's third
cousin, Johnny M'Alister, honest
mon, would be right glad to see him ;"
so off posted Randall M'Pherson to
his cousin's, to see whether the thrifty
Scot would " gie him houseroom for
a day or twa, till he had finished the
business he was anent." What be-
came of our two politicians I never
learned ; I left them on the quarter-
deck, as I handed the ladies into the
boat which took us ashore, disputing
most vehemently on some political
question, which they had mooted at
least one hundred and fifty times be-
fore. The lover was on the wing for
New- York ; the Cockney went to his
father's agent; and Harry Bertram
was the only one who remained with
us. We took up our abode at
" Smith's Hotel," to which we were
recommended by the captain; and
highly rejoiced were the ladies at
being once more on terra firma, the
dangers of the sea got over, and the
prospect of a happy meeting before

them. For me, I had no doubt of
finding plenty of subjects to interest
and attract; and so indeed it proved.

We were now to see the first spe-
cimen of American society. A Black
porter took some of our light lug-
gage, and piloted us to the hotel,
which stood in one of the principal
streets of the town. As we paced
along we could have almost thought
ourselves in England, if it had not
been for the number of Blacks whom
we saw driving about in all direc-
tions ; and for a certain air of sloven-
liness in the people who were evi-
dently of rather a superior order,
which you never see about persons
of that class in England.

Arrived at the hotel, we were
shewn into a room, in which a num-
ber of persons of both sexes were ai;
dinner; the landlord sat at the top
of his table, and took not the slight-
est notice whatever of the new-com-
ers: his Black servants placed chairs
for us, and when I inquired if we
could not have a private room, and
said the ladies were just landed, and
too fatigued to sit down to a public
table, one of them, grinning at us,
said, " Ees, ees, massa, we shew you
to room by and by ;" and off he
went to attend to some one at the
table, who was calling for a glass of
" apple toddy." I replied, if we.
could not be attended to, we must go
somewhere else. This threat appa-
rently alarmed " Mr. Smith," for he
called to one of the females, " Bess,
shew the ladies to the room up stairs ;"
and a young girl rose from table, and
immediately conducted us to a tole-
rably neat apartment, and saying she
would send a woman to us directly,
K 2

TllK CONFESSIONS OF A RAMBLER.

left us to ourselves. We were not
much impressed with American po-
liteness, but, as we knew it would
not be for long, and expected the
captain soon to join us, we resolved
to be content.

Here we remained nearly a week,
and before we departed, we became
better reconciled to American man-
ners. We found our host a talka-
tive, good-humoured man in the main,
but with a sufficient sense of self-im-
portance, which all Americans have.
His wife was an Englishwoman, and
she had given her daughters (they
had three and one son) as much of an
English education as she could. They
were agreeable girls, and by the ju-
dicious application of a little flattery,
and the gift of a few London trinkets,
I induced them to be more attentive
to Mrs. Fitzherbert and her daugh-
ters than I found they were wont to
be ; for they thought it a degradation
to assist in the business of the house,
leaving that to be attended to by the
male and female slaves, of whom
their father had several. We soon
found there was no having things
comfortable in our own room, as we
should have had in England; we
therefore made a merit of necessity,
and thinking it best " when at Rome
to do as the people of Rome do," we
conformed ourselves to their man-
ners as much as we could. In the
morning we breakfasted with the "fa-
mily," which consisted qf our host,
his wife and daughters, and several
gentlemen, who were boarding in the
house. One of the best things con-
nected with America is the break-
fasts. They are luxurious, yet sub-
stantial ; the city gourmand and the re-
fined petit-maitre might enjoy them.
Only imagine a table covered with
fine buck-wheat cakes, Johnny cakes,

wheaten bread, fowls, ham, eggs, and
often fruits, and every thing in pro-
fusion, whilst the fragrant coffee or
the foaming chocolate smokes upon
the board. No wonder that, after be-
ing kept on " ship's allowance" for
five or six weeks, we duly appreci-
ated all the agrtmens of these social
and excellent meals. Neither was
the feast altogether corporeal ; there
were several men of rather superior
abilities at that time inmates of
" Smith's," and the conversation was
always agreeable, frequently animat-
ed, and sometimes learned. I frank-
ly confess, that before we left, much
of my prejudices against the Ame-
ricans were worn off; but then we
had happily fallen in with some of
the most liberal - minded amongst
them, who could allow that there
were countries equal, if not superior,
to then* own, and who did not feel
that wonted enmity to England which,
at that period, too many of the Ame-
ricans not only entertained them-
selves, but endeavoured to enforce
upon the young and ductile minds
of infancy. A most pernicious prac-
tice: man is at all times too prone
to imbibe the baser and more igno-
ble feelings, without having them in-
fused with his mother's milk, and af-
terwards fed and nourished by the
force of prejudice and animosity, so
as to " grow with his growth, and
strengthen with his strength."

Before I dismiss the subject of our
associates, I must relate an incident
connected with one of them, which
I witnessed the second day of our
sojourn. He was a Quaker; a tall,
muscular, powerful man, but blessed
with great placidity of temper and
the most thorough good -humour.
A man with whom he had had
some mercantile transactions, and who

THE CONFESSIONS OF A RAMBLER.

thought he had been hardly dealt '
with by our Quaker (and that he had
not, I cannot take upon myself to
determine, for the Americans think
it no sin to cheat in the way of bu-
siness), annoyed him a great deal,
applying to him many opprobrious
epithets. As he was a small insigni-
ficant figure when compared with
the Quaker, and evidently no match
for him in point of prowess, I con-
cluded, what indeed was the fact,
that he relied upon the known for-
bearance of the Friends generally,
and also upon the peculiar good-hu-
mour and urbanity of Friend Simons
in particular. The latter made many
amusing repartees to the invectives of
his irascible opponent, whilst he de-
fended himself from the charge of
having imposed upon him ; and the
dialogue, harsh and angry and vitu-
perative on the one side, and witty,
good-humoured, and playful on the
other, had lasted perhaps for the best
part of an hour, when the Quaker
at length lost his patience, though he
kept his temper. Provoked at some-
thing peculiarly irritating, which the
other had uttered in the most taunt-
ing manner, he got up, and approach-
ing the fellow, who evidently began
to quake for fear, he said, '•' I will
not strike thee, but I will hold thee
yery uncomfortably." He took the
poor little man by his neckerchief,
and lifting him upright against the
wall, he did in truth hold him so un-
comfortably, that the tears gushed
from his eyes, and his face began to
turn completely black. There were
several gentlemen in the room, who
laughed heartily at the ludicrous fi-
gure which the angry merchant cut:
in fact, the whole was done with such
apparent good-humour, that at first
I joined in the laugh myself. How-

ever, I soon began to fear the joke
would go too far, and as no one of-
fered to interfere, I went up, and re-
quested the Quaker to release his
victim. He complied ; and the lat-
ter, as soon as he recovered his breath,
hurried out of the room, execrating
Friend Simons, and vowing that he
would never trust himself within the
reach of his iron grasp again.

But to return to our mode of
spending the day. After breakfast
we usually walked out, and one or
other of the Miss Smiths honoured
us with her company. I soon found
this was done as much for the sake
of Harry Bertram's society as from
a sense of politeness or attention to
the strangers, for he had actually in-
spired two of these lasses with a pen-
chant for his person, which was the
source of much ill-blood and jealousy
between them. Harry too was not
slow in discovering the impression he
had made, and as I had determined
to accept Mrs. Fitzherbert's invita-
tion to spend some time with the fa-
mily at Alexandria, he resolved to
leave us, and proceed to New- York,
which was his destination. He ac-
cordingly departed the fourth day
after our arrival. It was several years
before we met again, and then under
very different circumstances : but I
must not anticipate.

In these walks we had plenty of
food for observation, and we were
upon the whole a good deal pleased
with Baltimore, which is a fine cheer-
ful-looking town, built on an emi-
nence, upon which it rises in the
form of a crescent in front of a no-
ble and rapid river, the Patuxent,
that forms a safe and spacious har-
bour below the town. This was filled
with ships of all nations, though
chiefly English; and the bustle upon

EXPLOITS AT SAVENDUOOG.

the piers and in the streets reminded
us of one of our second-rate sea-
ports in England. The public build-
ings struck us as mean, being all of
brick ; but generally the houses are
good and commodious, and the tout-
ensemble was certainly rather pleas-
ing than otherwise. We had little
intercourse with the inhabitants, but
those with whom we associated were
calculated to inspire us with rather
favourable sentiments ; and we were
not annoyed with any of that trou-
blesome inquisitiveness which we had
been led to apprehend, and which
we experienced subsequently in other
places.

Walking till we were tired, we
then returned to dine/ which meal
was in general taken about three
o'clock. Our dinners were as plen-
tiful as our breakfasts; there was no
niggardliness displayed in the provi-
sion made for the guests, and these
meals were equally cheerful and
agreeable. In the afternoon the la-
dies usually retired, and took some
repose; the gentlemen amused them-
selves with playing, fives, billiards,
&c. ; and at six awQjfeV social meal

assembled us for the last time during
the day around the festive board.

The evening was spent amongst
the gentlemen too frequently in gam-
ing; with our party walking or mu-
sic generally occupied us till the
hour of retirement, when we sought
our pillows, and though terribly an-
noyed with some very disagreeable
insects, we still contrived to sleep to-
lerably comfortably till the hour of
breakfast next morning.

This was the -routine of each day
during the time we remained at
" Smith's :" we frequently saw our
worthy captain, who enlivened us
with his constitutional good-humour
whenever he appeared. On the fifth
day Mr. Mortimer arrived, and the
meeting was . one of that description
which can better be imagined than
described. He immediately removed
us to the house of a friend, and as
our residence there gave me an op-
portunity of seeing something of the
domestic circle of the Americans, I
shall reserve what I have to say on
that subject for another Number.
A Rambler.

EXPLOITS AT SAVENDROOG.

(Concluded

Early next morning the surgeon
came to see Mr. Rutledge, along with
Captain Maynard of the E. I. C. ser-
vice. Captain Maynard had been on
guard the preceding day at a remote
station, and now hastened to congra-
tulate Mr. Rutledge on his promo-
tion. He was asleep, in consequence
of passing a restless night; and Mrs.
Rutledge, seated beside him on a low
camp-stool, had slumbered with her
head on the edge of his mattress.
On a small table close beside her lay

from p. 35.)

I a few books. A Common Prayer-
! Book with gold clasps attracted the
J notice of Captain Maynard : he ex-
' amined it. His own initials and those
of his sister were engraven on the
clasps, and on opening the book, he
saw, in his own hand- writing, "A part-
ing token of affection from Philip C.
Maynard to his dear sister, Sophia
Maynard." Extremely agitated, he
sat down on a bench, and made a sign
to the doctor that he would rest there.
The doctor left him. Captain May-

KXPLOITS AT SAVF.XDUOOG

nard tore a slip of paper from a let-
ter lie had in his pocket, and wrote,
" If Mrs. Rutledge was Sophia May-
nard, daughter to the once affluent
Benjamin May nard of London, she
will acknowledge a fondly attached
brother in Philip Charles Maynard,

captain in the regiment native

infantry."

What language could express the
joyful feelings with which Mr.-. Rut-
ledge ran over the contents of this
note ! She gradually imparted to her
husband this new blessing from the
hand of Divine Providence, and with
a trembling hand, begged to see her
beloved brother. He came instantly,
and the brother and sister were
clasped in embraces of mute but de-
lightful recognition ; till Captain May-
nard, recollecting the third party in
their happiness, took Rutledge by
the hand, assuring him he was over-
joyed and proud to call him brother.
Rutledge warmly returned the ex-
pressions of kindness ; and Mrs. Rut-
ledge said, " My dear, dear brother,
though your generous delicacy for-
bears to inquire, I am all impatient to
explain how you see thus reduced
your sister, and the son of our fa-
ther's partner in business, the high-
born and accomplished Mr. Frederick
Rutledge. Are you at leisure to
hear our story ?"

" Yea, my dear Sophia, and no-
thing can be so interesting to me as
your concerns; fully convinced, from
all I heard of you and Mr. Rutledge
before I knew our affinity, that no
misconduct on your part has occa-
sioned the circumstances to which
you allude. I beg you will proceed
in your narrative."

" Even in this height of felicity, it
is grievous that I cannot do justice
to my husband and myself without

blaming our unhappy father. His
irregularities were little known to
you, and perhaps he kept you at
school, even during the vacations, to
prevent opportunity for observing his
errors. Our excellent mother ac-
quiesced in this separation, though
she doted on her endearing Philip
Charles; but she believed it safest
to exempt you from pernicious exam-
ple in the habits of a parent, and you
left us almost a stranger to our do-
mestic circle : however, you must re-
member Mr. Frederick Rutledge,
our best, I may even say our only
friend.

" My father was of humble pa-
rentage in the north of England. The
kindness of a gentleman in the neigh-
bourhood afforded him education,
and procured him respectable em-
ployment in a mercantile house, where
his good conduct and abilities recom-
mended him to advancement. He
was highly esteemed, when Mr. Rut-
ledge, son to a nobleman of Meck-
lenburg, came to England with the
wreck of his hereditary fortune. The
estates were ravaged- and the pea-
santry carr'ni^^i^f by* Frederick of
Prussia; anrd"*ji"iy* father being acci-
dentally introduced to Mr. Rutledge,
had the inclination and the power of
befriending him. Mr. Rutledge had
money, my father had experience in
business, and they entered vipon a
mercantile concern. Mr. Rutledge
was engaged to a lady of his own
country ; my father had been for
some time attached to an Irish lady,
and as soon as the prosperity of their
speculations enabled them to fulfil
their engagements, both the young
men were married.

" My dear mother gave me these
particulars in her last lingering ill-
ness, and said, that for several years

EXPLOITS AT SAVENDROOG.

she was truly blest in a husband. JN.tr. I
and Mrs. Rutledge were exemplary i
in every relation, and though wealth |
flowed upon them, they did not
plunge into the perilous vortex of
dissipation. Our poor father had
less steadiness. By degrees he ab-
sented himself from home, and went
to the counting-house rather as a
lounger than an active partner. Mr.
Rutledge, in the most friendly man-
ner, expostulated with him on his neg-
lect of their common interests. He
acknowledged his faults with the
reckless good-humour which in his
disposition was almost a foible ; but,
alas! he did not amend, and Mr.
Rutledge would have withdrawn from
the firm, but that he saw his seces-
sion must bring ruin on my mother
and her family. His great exertions
in some measure compensated for our
father's inattention.

" About this time Mrs. Rutledge
died, bequeathing her son to my mo-
ther's special care. He was then
about ten years of age. It was in
the spring after you embarked for
India, and I was in my fifth year. I
was very eai'ly boarded at Hamp-
s^ead, and Henry was sent to Eton,
for the same reasons that you were
seldom allowed to visit home during
the vacations. Henry was afterwards
regularly bred to business at Altona,
where his father had large concerns.
We were almost continually together,
and fondly regarded each other in
childhood. We always met for a few
days during the vacations, and parted
with regret. From the time he went
abroad till I was about nineteen, I
had not beheld him ; but we did not
forget eai'ly predilections. I was verg-
ing on seventeen, when my dear mo-
ther's declining health, and Mr. Rut-
ledge's visual defect, made my assist-

ance necessary, and with his direc-
tions I was of some use in writing
confidential letters. He became quite
blind; his speech was impaired by
nervous affections, and my mother
wrote to Henry that his presence was
indispensable. The ferment of de-
mocratical principles overspread the
Continent, and Henry had been for
some time winding up the concern at
Altona. He finished his business,
withdrew his father's name from the
firm, and returned to London. In
three months after his arrival, a para-
lytic stroke deprived him of the best
of fathers, and my mother and I were
bereft of our truest friend.

" Henry of course succeeded to
his father's place in the mercantile
house of which my father was nomi-
nally a partner. On examining the
books, he found that since his fa-
ther's incapacity for business all had
gone into confusion. He spoke to
my father relative to the unprosper-
ous state of their affairs ; and how
shall I bring my tongue to utter it ?
Our parent not only proposed, but
urged that they should put matters
in a train for bankruptcy, by convert-
ing their property into cash, which
should be withheld from the credit-
ors. Henry, in the most deferential
but stedfast manner, objected; and
when my father repeated the propo-
sal, he told him he would beg from
door to door, or perish in want, ra-
ther than take such means to avert
poverty. He told my father he could
command a sum that would answer
present calls ; he would resort to
those funds supplied from his late
father's concern at Altona, and he
would give incessant attention to
bring their affairs into some better
arrangement. My father, easy and
thoughtless, was satisfied ; but, in the

EXPLOITS AT SAVENDROOG.

fulness of his heart, he came home
half intoxicated, and told my dear
mother all Henry Rutledge had said
and done. Henry wished to spare
her the cruel shock and alarm ; he
was vexed to find, when he came to
see us late in the evening, that my ft i-
ther had so needlessly disquieted the
feeble invalid; and in a few days he
saw that the generous aid he gave to
the London concern would be frus-
trated by my father's extravagance;
or, rather, by the profusion of a young
woman, who lived in a superb style at
his expense.

" As soon as decency permitted a
mourner for his father to speak of
marriage, Henry made proposals to
me, and obtained my mother's con-
sent to our union. My father half
agreed; but my dear mother's rival
had never forgiven Henry for refus-
ing to defraud the creditors, and she
persuaded my father to say I was too
young to take the cares of the world
upon my head. My mother besought
him to consider the state of his af-
fairs, and that as Henry was, willing
to take me portionless, he should
thankfully close with the noble-mind-
ed offer. Her pleadings were of no
avail, and she was soon unable to
speak, nor could I think of any thing
but her complicated ailments and my
father's negligence in the last stage
of her sufferings. Henry was her
consoler, and but for him I must have
sunk under a load of anxiety and af-
fliction. Years had elapsed since we
heard of or from you, my dear bro-
ther. I am certain your letters and
ours were intercepted."

" They certainly were at first in-
tercepted, and I was so little aware
of our secret history, that I blamed
every member of the family, and

¥ai. III. No. XIV.

ceased to write. I shall ever lament
that pride of heart. But, dearest So-
phia, bring your sad recital to a con-
clusion. I burn with impatience to
hear it."

" My beloved mother expired with
your name on her pale lips. I once
believed it impossible to survive her ;
but I lived, and lived to increasing
wretchedness. She was not five
weeks in the peaceful grave, when our
infatuated father yave her rights to
the woman whose artifices embittered
her dying moments. Soon after this
degrading marriage, he was arrested
for the debts of his new wife to a
large amount. All his creditors were
alarmed; claims poured upon the
mercantile house; insolvency could
be no longer retarded. Yet, ruined
as he was by my father's imprudence,
Henry did not forsake me. He re^-
newed his offers of marriage, was re-
jected, and forbidden the house. Oh !
how gladly would I have left that
scene of vicious merriment for servi-
tude in a reputable family ! But I had
no relation, nor even a female friend,
to take pity upon me. My poor fa-
ther was seldom sober, and no wo-
man of character could visit his wife.
Our house was advertised for sale;
we removed to a lodging, which be-
came the haunt of sharpers and pro-
fligate characters: yet the law still
subjected me to a father's authority,
and without his consent no marriage
was valid.

" One only resource was left. Rut-
ledge was acquainted with an officer
going to India with recruits for his
regiment. He made that gentleman
the confidant of our perplexity, and
was advised to enlist, as a line from
the officer commanding the party
would obtain marriage for him. I
L . •

HISTORY OF A COQUETTE.

contrived to escape from the abode
of infamy, and gave my vows where
my fondest affections and esteem were
long fixed. The officer with whom
Rutledge enlisted pledged his honour
to give him his discharge, taking a
substitute in his place. He was killed
in a duel the day after our marriage.
The officer who succeeded to the
command of the party was a frequent
visitor of my father's wife, and by her
was influenced to disregard every ap-
plication in behalf of my husband.
We were obliged to embark for In-
dia; and though as a soldier's wife I
have known some hardship, I was
happier with my dear Henry in that
lowly sphere, than I could have been
in ease and affluence with a step-mo-
ther excluded from virtuous society.
I have experienced the truth of Hen-
ry's remark when he proposed the on-
ly alternative for our union — that mis-
fortune may reduce and depress, but
it is misconduct only that can degrade
an individual."

Captain Maynard did not interrupt
his sister's simple but affecting story,
though his expressive features shew-
ed how profoundly he sympathized
in each event ; and at the conclusion
he said to Mr. Rutledge, " How can
I express my thanks for all you have
done for our family! I believe you
are the first gentleman of high cha-
racter and elegant acquirements who,
in the generous excess of passionate
tenderness, made a double sacrifice
of liberty, by enlisting as a soldier
and submitting to the matrimonial
yoke. Your own merit has restored
you to the rank you are eminently
fitted to adorn, and I must gild the
hymeneal fetters for you with some
of my late uncle's pagodas."

In a few days, Captain Maynard
presented his sister with bills for
twenty thousand pounds, which he
considered but small atonement for
his epistolary deficiencies.

B.G.

HISTORY OF A COQUETTE.

Mr, Editor,

With all that has appeared
in your Repository for and against
old maids, it seems to me that your
correspondents have completely over-
looked one class, and that not the
least prominent, of our venerable bo-
dy ; I mean coquettes. I must sup-
pose therefore either that they were
ignorant of this class, or have forgot-
ten to mention it ; though I seriously
believe, that if all superannuated vir-
gins were as candid as I am about
to be, you would find that our class
would out-muster most of the others.

I was born a coquette, Mr. Editor;
at least I have every reason to believe,
from all that I can recollect of my

childhood, that such was actually the
case. When other girls were mak-
ing clothes for their dolls, I was em-
ployed in adjusting mine so as to
ape the appearance of womanhood.
If I was summoned to the drawing-
room, I always put my maid out of
temper by the time I took to arrange
my ringlets; and I never went out
without tying and untying my bonnet
twenty times at least before I could
hit upon the most becoming way of
placing it.

As I grew up, the love of admira-
tion became every day stronger, and
before I was fifteen, I already in idea
soared above the homage of the or-
dinary part of mankind. In fact, the

HISTORY OF A COQUETTK.

hearts of common-place men of fa-
shion seemed to me to be scarcely
worth breaking, and I sighed for the
opportunity of throwing my chains
round those unbending spirits who
are generally considered proof to all
the artillery of Cupid. How have
I exulted in the thought of seeing
the astronomer consult my eyes in-
stead of the stars; — the mathemati-
cian leave the solution of his darling
problem, to solve that more difficult
problem, my character; — the anti-
quary prefer gazing on me, to deci-
phering illegible manuscripts; — and
the poet abandon the Muses, to
draw inspiration from my smiles! In
these delicious visions of future tri-
umphs the time stole on, till at
seventeen I made my debut on the
great stage of the world with an
eclat which promised to fulfil my
most sanguine expectations. Wher-
ever I went I was flattered, followed,
and adored ; youth and age, the
commoner and the peer, the man of
wit and the beau, alike did homage
to my charms : but I have already
told you, easy conquests were not to
my taste, and I looked around for
some time in vain in search of nobler
game. At last I fixed on Mr. Clas-
sic, a young student, who had re-
cently quitted Cambridge, and who
publicly boasted of his intention to
have no other mistress than Learn-
ing. Nothing daunted by this de-
claration, I laid siege to his heart in
form. I commenced my attack by
begging an explanation of a difficult
passage in Theocritus ; and I took care
to listen to this explanation, which
he very readily gave, with an air of
the utmost deference and attention.
I saw that the awe which he flattered
himself he had inspired pleased his
vanity, and I took care that our in-

tercourse should not end there. I
affected to be quite enamoured of
classic lore; and as it really was his
passion, he readily believed I was
smitten with it. When once I had
succeeded in drawing his attention,
the rest became easy. Luckily my
personal attractions were to his taste :
my face was Grecian, I had some-
thing of the Roman dignity in my
figure and air, and my hair was of
the true classical colour. I arranged
it after an approved antique model,
threw over it a veil of the identical
form of that in which Helen con-
quered Paris, discarded the stiff
stays that were then in fashion, and
suffered my gown to fall in the grace-
ful folds of an antique drapery. The
bait took, my scholar surrendered at
discretion, and I enjoyed the triumph
of holding a man in my chains whose
heart had been pronounced invulne-
rable by the whole town.

The first intoxication of my suc-
cess had hardly subsided when I be-
came acquainted with Squire Chase,
a rough fox-hunter, upon whom I
should never have deigned to think
of casting an eye, had he not piqued
my pride by declaring publicly, that
he wondered what people could see
in me to admire ; that I was a puny
thing, who looked as if I had neither
strength nor spirit to follow the
hounds or the fiddle. In order to
obviate the last part of the charge,
I refused in his hearing to dance a
minuet, protesting that I could not
bear such still-life doings, and had
no taste for any thing but Scotch
reels or country-dances. This de-
claration had the effect I foresaw:
he asked me to dance reels, and when
he found that I pretty nearly tired
him out, he began to hold me in
more respect. My next step was to
L 2

SOME ACCOUNT OF ltOSSINI.

commence horse-woman, and at the
repeated risk of my neck I hecame
a bold and fearless rider. As I was
determined to give my squire an
agreeable surprise, I said nothing of
what I was about, till I thought my-
self capable of joining him in a hunt-
ing party. Never shall I forget the
boisterous joy with which he hailed
my approach on horseback. From
that moment his attentions became
more pointed, but he still hung back
from a formal declaration. In the
mean time, however, the world gave
us so decidedly to each other, that
my Cantab became alarmed, and find-
ing it impossible to draw me into any
decided declaration, he abruptly bade
me farewell. His departure seemed
to give, the squire fresh spirits ; he
became still more assiduous, and one
day when we were in a hunting party,
where I was first in at the death, he
swore he could no longer refrain from
telling me his mind. I was the tight-
est best-going thing of my inches in
all England ; he should be heartily
glad to be yoked with me for life,

and the sooner the better. This last
hint was by no means agreeable to
me: however, I managed to keep him
in my train for a little while, without
coming to any explanation, but call-
ing one day, and finding me tcte-a~
tete with Lord Trinket, he outstaicl
his lordship, and then seizing my
hand, he burst into the following ha-
rangue : " Look ye, miss, I've been all
my life a quick hand at a bargain :
I've told you my mind, now tell me
yours, for I promise you I wont be
made a fool of any longer : so, will
you marry me? Aye or no?" What
could one do, Mr. Editor, with such
a plain-speaking animal as this was ?
I was forced to utter a decided No;
though, to say the truth, I pronounc-
ed it with fear and trembling, for I
was actually afraid the man would
beat me: however, he contented him-
self with a few execrations on the
jade's trick I had played him in
leading him such a wild-goose chase,
and then flounced out without the
ceremony of an adieu.

( To he concluded in our next.)

SOME ACCOUNT OF THE CELEBRATED COMPOSER ROSSINI.

Rosstni was born in the little town
of Pesaro, in Italy, on the 29th Febru-
ary, 1792. His father was an itinerant
musician, and his mother a second-
rate actress; they performed in dif-
ferent strolling companies, the hus-
band in the orchestra, and the wife
on the stage. Young Rossini accom-
panied his parents from Pesaro to
Bologna in 1799, but he did not
begin to study music till he was
twelve years of age. The first fruits
of his talents were a fewpaoli, which
he received for sinewing in the church-
es. In 1806, he was sufficiently ad-

vanced to sing even the most difficult
music at sight. He composed in the
same year his first work in vocal mu-
sic: it is the cantata, II pianto d'ar-
monia.

In 1812, the Inganno Felice was
played at Venice during the Carni-
val. This piece may be compared
to the first pictures of Raphael on
his leaving the school of Perrugino :
we find in it all the faults which have
their source in the timidity of early
youth. Rossini, then only twenty,
dared not venture to please himself
alone. Nevertheless, in this opera, in

UEMARKABLE INSTANCE OF LEGAL INGENUITY.

one act, the experienced eye of a
professor will find the germ of those
brilliant and original ideas which af-
terwards gained for fifteen or twenty
compositions of Rossini the reputa-
tion of master-pieces.

From 1810 till 1816, he visited suc-
cessively all the towns of Italy, and
passed two or three months in each.
He always gave the first two or three
weeks to convivial parties; he then
studied the voices of the different
singers, and afterwards employed
himself in composing.

Before the age of thirty-two, Ros-
sini has composed forty-five operas
or cantatas. His numerous works
have not, however, enriched him;
but this is easily accounted for, when
we consider that the greater part of
these compositions have been badly
paid, and that Rossini generally sent,
on the day of the first representation,

two-thirds of what he received to his
parents.

In 1821, he acquired by his mar-
riage with the celebrated singer, Ma-
demoiselle Colbrand, an income of
about eight hundred pounds a year.
This lady was the original Elisabetta
in his opera of that name. In getting
up the piece, particular attention was
paid to the dresses, especially to that
of Elisabetta. In fact, a drawing
of the costume of the royal virgin
had been sent for from London, in
order that nothing might be wanting
to the illusion of the scene. This
fact was known to the audience, and
it heightened the interest which the
beauty and the majestic demeanour
of Mademoiselle Colbrand gave to
the part.

A lithographic portrait of this
eminent composer has just appear-
ed at the Repository of Arts.

REMARKABLE INSTANCE

• In the year 175S, a man who was
committed to Newgate on a charge
of highway robbery, sent for Mr.
Brecknock*, the solicitor, and re-
quested that he would undertake his
defence. When he came to him, his
first question was, whether he had
really committed the robbery. " It
is no matter whether you have or
not," said Brecknock, " you shall
not be hanged; but it is necessary
that I should know the truth, that I
may frame the defence accordingly."
— " Why indeed," replied the cul-
prit, " I did commit the robbery." —
" Very well," answered the solicitor :
" now tell me, first, have you any
money? How much can you com-

* Mr. Timothy Brecknock, who was
executed at Castlebar, in Ireland, with
G. R. Fitzgerald, Esq.

OF LEGAL INGENUITY.

mand?" — "I have somewhat above
100/. in cash and valuables." — " Very
well, let me have 80/. : it is not for
myself; I leave my reward to your
own generosity when you are clear-
ed ; but I want that money for a par-
ticular purpose, and will account with
you for every farthing of it. It is
still five weeks to your trial, so I
have time enough, and with time and
money every thing can be done."
The sum was instantly paid in Bank-
notes, which the culprit had artfully
concealed, and Mr. Brecknock pro-
ceeded to desire the criminal to give
him a particular account of every
circumstance of the robbery; which
he did, to the following purport:
That five weeks before that time he
met a gentleman in a chariot, with a
footman beliind, near the ninth mile-

REMARKABLE INSTANCE OF LEGAL INGENUITY.

stone on the Barnet road, at half-
past eleven o'clock at night: that he
stopped the carriage, and robbed
him of 137 guineas and some silver,
but refused his watch, as he did not
choose to deal in discoverable arti-
cles : that presently after he found
himself pursued by the coachman on
one of the coach-horses, and rode
down a lane out of the high-road ;
but finding the lane close at the bot-
tom, he leaped his horse over some
pales, and quitted him, took to his
heels across the fields, and reached
town in safety : that the coach-horse
not being able to leap, his own horse
escaped, and came home of itself
next morning. Thus he the tight nim-
self quite secure as to this affair ; but
shortly after, the coachman met him
on the same horse in Whitechapel,
had him seized and carried before
a justice, where his person was iden-
tified by the gentleman, the coach-
man, and the footman, who knew
him by the bright moonlight ; and
on this evidence he was fully com-
mitted for trial. " This is rather an
ugly affair," said Brecknock : " how-
ever, don't fear, I'll bring you off.
I shall not attempt to prove you else-
where at the precise time of the
robbery, for an alibi is a very dan-
gerous defence, unless it can be well
supported; and I don't care to trust
your life to a set of rascally witnesses,
who may be sifted by a close cross-
examination, or have their charac-
ters inquired into : no, no, I shall act
otherwise ; you have only to make
your heart easy, and plead ' Not
guilty! "

At the next sessions the trial came
on, and the gentleman, the coach-
man, and the footman deposed to
every circumstance of the robbery
as above related; adding, that they

were positive in regard both to the
horse and to the man, whose face
they had closely seen by the light of
the moon, as his crape had fallen off
when he first stopped the chariot,
and the coachman had picked it up
when he unharnessed one of the
coach-horses to pursue the robber,
by his master's permission. The pri-
soner was called upon to make his
defence, when Mr. Brecknock ad-
dressed the Court in these words:

My Lords and Gentlemen of the Jury,

I have not the least doubt of the
innocence of the unhappy person at the
bar, though he stands here under very
disagreeable circumstances, inasmuch as,
although he was in bed in his own lodg-
ings at the very time the robbery is said
to have been committed, yet he can prove
that fact by no other testimony than that
of his wife (and I know how little regard
is usually paid to a wife witnessing for
her husband), and of a child five years
old, who is too young to be admitted to
an oath. I do not seek to impeach the
veracity of the gentleman who is the pro-
secutor, his character is too well esta-
blished : I have not the least doubt he
was robbed in the manner he has sworn.
Neither would I deny that the coachman
pursued the robber as he has declared :
yet I am confident that the prisoner at
the bar was not the person. In respect
to the identity of the horse, I put that
entirely out of the question, and will say,
that a horse seen in the dark cannot be
easily known in the light, at a distance of
five weeks. There is scarcely a horse so
singularly marked that there should not be
others similarly marked ; and as a proof,
there are now four horses in the court-
yard standing together with the prisoner's
horse, which Mr. Sheriff has been so
kind as to suffer to be brought hither ;
and if the three witnesses agree in se-
lecting, separately, the prisoner's horse,
of which they are so very certain, from

LISBON AND THE PORTUGUESE.

the rest, I will acquiesce in the prisoner's
guilt. But, my lords and gentlemen of
the jury, I have still more to urge in re-
spect to the alleged identity of the horse.
The prosecutor is doubtless impelled by
a love of justice, but that love sometimes
carries a man to an extreme of zeal. The
coachman may have a love of justice;
but when it is remembered that the con-
viction of the prisoner will entitle him to
a reward of 40/. the Court may be in-
clined to think him interested in the ver-
dict which you, gentlemen of the jury,
may bring in. The footman, having
heard some particulars sworn by his mas-
ter and his fellow-servant, may believe
them true, as being the same story. The
three witnesses have all declared that
they recollected the prisoner's face, from
having seen it clearly at the time of the
robbery by the strong light of the moon.
Now I have one witness that will un-
doubtedly set aside this concurrence of
evidence. It is indeed an uninterested
witness, a silent witness, yet one that can
speak home to the conviction of the whole
Court. It is Ryder's Almanac; and if
your lordships and the gentlemen of the
jury will take the trouble to look into it,
you will find it utterly impossible that
the witnesses could have seen the pri-
soner's face by the light of the moon :
for you see, on the night of the robbery,
that the moon did not rise till sixteen mi-
nutes after three in the morning ; conse-
quently it could not give any light at half-
past eleven o'clock, near three hours be-
fore it rose; and if the witnesses are
thus proved to be mistaken in the capital

point of their evidence, no part of it
can affect the prisoner.

Having said this, lie handed an
almanac up to the Bench, in which
it appeared plainly that the moon
rose on that particular night as Breck-
nock had said. The Court and jury
being satisfied as to that point, the
prisoner was immediately acquitted,
and discharged out of court on pay-
ing his fees.

Mr. Brecknock prided himself on
his ingenuity in deceiving the Court,
which, as he afterwards boasted, he
effected in this manner : He employ-
ed the money he had received from
the highwayman in getting printed a
new edition of Ryder's Almanac,
exactly similar to the genuine edi-
tion, except that the lunations for
the whole year had been changed,
so as to make it appear that on the
night of the robbery there was no
moon. He had only half-a-dozen
copies struck off, one of which he
presented to the Bench, and lodged
the other five in different hands in
the court, to be produced in case
any doubts had arisen, and another
almanac had been called for. The
Recorder discovered the fraud some
days afterwards, but it was then too
late, as the prisoner had been ac-
quitted, and the solicitor was not re-
sponsible for the error in the alma-
nac which he produced, and which
could not then be identified.

LISBON AND THE PORTUGUESE.

Extracted from Letters tvrittcn in 1821 and 1822.
(Continued from p. 49.)

Dec. 1821. I must now give you some idea of

In my last letter I touched upon the population. The number of the

all the public buildings of this capi- inhabitants is computed at from two

tal which deserve to be mentioned: hundred to two hundred and fifty

LISBON AND THE PORTUGUESE.

thousand. It may surprise you that
this point cannot be determined with
greater precision, but such matters
here are exceedingly neglected. It
is true, that by the division of the
country into elective districts, a more
accurate notion of the number of in-
habitants in Portugal has been ob-
tained. The total amount is stated
at about three millions. Lisbon and
its district are set down at 270,000
inhabitants, and as entitled to send
nine deputies to the Cortes.

There is not perhaps a city in Eu-
rope that contains, in proportion to
its size, a greater number of stran-
gers from all quarters : here indeed
may be seen a mixture of all the na-
tions of the globe. The majority of
them consists of Gallicians of the
lower class, who may safely be esti-
mated at from ten to fifteen thou-
sand. These perform almost exclu-
sively all sorts of menial offices, act-
ing as porters, water-carriers, domes-
tic servants, &c. In the most busy
part of the city they may be seen
standing at the corner of every street,
ready to engage at the first summons
in any capacity. The Portuguese
are too proud to hire themselves for
these offices: it was not till lately
that they enrolled themselves in re-
gularly organized companies, which
occasioned the Gallician war, as it
is termed, because the Portuguese
attempted to drive away the Galli-
cians by force. This war, however,
was excited by persons of higher
consequence, and eighty of the ring-
leaders are still in confinement. The
term Gallego (Gallician) is synony-
mous with porter, for which class of
labourers they have no other name.

Next to the Gallicians, the Ge-
noese compose a more numerous bo-
dy than any other foreigners: these

too are mostly of the lower class, and
and chiefly engaged in horticulture.
There is no scarcity of English,
French, and Germans, the latter
principally from the Hanse towns and
Bohemia. From other quarters of
the world you meet with Negroes,
Mulattoes, and natives of Morocco;
and the Portuguese Indiamen fre-
quently bring with them Chinese or
individuals belonoinfj to other Orien-
tal nations. The Jews are again be-
ginning to settle at Lisbon ; but in
consequence of the prohibition of the
importation of corn, the Greeks and
Turks have almost wholly disap-
peared.

Of the Portuguese themselves, a
considerable and indeed the more
opulent part come from the provinces.
Natives of Lisbon are held upon the
whole in little estimation, and not
without reason ; for if a provincial,
through commerce and industry, ac-
quires wealth in the capital, it is ve-
ry rarely that his son is seen to tread
in his father's steps. The former is
ashamed of the profession which en-
riched the latter; he prefers indulg-
ing in the delicious far niente, and
squanders away his fortune. Upon
the whole, this shame of, and aver-
sion to, business are prominent traits
in Lisbon: persons of every class wish
to be thought a few steps higher
than they really are, and therefore
would not mind starving at home in
order to cut a figure abroad.

The numerous beggars in the streets
present a disgusting spectacle. There
exists not, I believe, as yet, any po-
lice regulation against mendicity:
hence it is impossible to enter any
coffee-house or tavern, or to pass
through any frequented street, with-
out being pestered by cripples, blind
and lame, and people making a pa-

LISBON AND THE POKTUGUKSF.

rade of real or feigned infirmities.
To-day it is in the name of San An-
tonio, to-morrow in that of the Bless-
ed Virgin, that they bespeak the pi-
ty of passengers, frequently with the
most ludicrous expressions. Some
sit in the streets with their whole fa- j
milies, father, mother, and half a do-
zen naked children of their own or !
hired for the purpose, and sing forth
their claims upon your charity in most
harmonious strains. Others, by
means of a certain herb, produce
swellings and sores upon their bodies
and limbs, which they exhibit, and
which are so disgusting, that you are
glad to throw them a trifle to get rid
of them. But there are also among
them speculative beggars, who soli-
cit alms in a mantle composed of a
hundred patches, which they strip
off at night, to enjoy themselves in
taverns, and who are enabled to save
sufficient to give handsome portions
to their children. There is no want
of hospitals and poor-houses in Lis-
bon, but the police is supine, and
mendicants like begging better than
work.

Notwithstanding the impudence
with which beggars annoy passengers,
send trained children after them for a
whole street's length, and even abuse
such as are not to be moved by their
pitiful tales, as I know myself from
experience, still the Portuguese shews
them a politeness which can only be
attributed to the false notions he has
imbibed from infancy, that a sort
of religious character is attached to
the mendicant profession. If a beg-
gar appears before a shop m which
half a dozen loungers are gaping
about them, they involuntarily move
their hats, and one of them dismisses
him with the words, " Per clou irwao"
Vol. III. No. XIV.

(Pardon, brother !) ; for it is not ve-
ry common to bestow charity in the
streets, and I cannot conceive how
persons of this class subsist, and
much less how they can save any
thing.

It is curious to see the cripples,
and the blind in particular, who cry
newspapers, pamphlets, fugitive pie-
ces, and proclamations for sale. Ear-
ly one morning, I was passing a shop
for novelties of this kind, and saw a
dozen blind men, to each of whom
was counted out a certain number of
copies : it was the account of Gene-
ral Madeiras victory over the Bra-
silians at Bahia — and he was told
what to cry. One cannot frequently
forbear laughing at the titles which
they give to their papers; and some-
times they disfigure them in such a
manner, that it is impossible to guess
what they have to sell. On one oc-
casion all foreigners were required
to give in their names to the police,
and this order was cried by a blind
man by the title of Hostilities against
Foreigners I When the patriots from
Oporto disseminated their proclama-
tion, another was issued by the Re-
gency here, for the purpose of keep-
ing the nation faithful to the king.
These proclamations were also sold
by blind men : a wag desired to have
one of the latter, pretended to take
it out from among the rest, and
meanwhile exchanged the whole lot
for the Oporto proclamation. The
hawker, without knowing the reason,
soon disposed of all his copies.

As in all the cities of the south of
Europe, so here many things are
done in the street, which in the north
are done only within doors: to say
nothing of cooking, you here see ro-
mantic groups lovingly hunting the
M .

LISBON AND TlIR PORTUGUESE.

vermin in one another's hair. It is
rather remarkable that there are yet
no hackney-coaches in ^isbon, con-
sidering that the Portuguese are not
fond of walking. Most of the pri-
vate carriages and those let for hire
are two-wheeled, and resemble a ca-
briolet; and on account of the wretch-
ed state of the pavement, mules are
preferred to horses, and are also
much dearer than the latter. There
are very few elegant equipages: the
nobility alone drive four horses or
mules; but their carriages are old-
fashioned, and the horses so emaci-
ated as to afford undeniable evidence
of their scanty fare. They are, ne-
vertheless, sure to be attended by nu-
merous servants in grotesque old-fa-
shioned liveries. When a gentleman
rides out on horseback, he is follow-
ed by a valet, whose horse is har-
nessed as for a carriage : the reason
of this practice I am not acquainted
with. The trappings of a Portu-
guese saddle-horse have still much of
the Moorish character, and especi-
ally the stirrups, which form a wood-
en case for the foot.

Owing to the great number of
strangers from all parts in Lisbon,
the people of this city are very tole-
rant towards remarkable costumes
and manners ; though the foreigner
himself is surprised at many of the
national dresses which he observes.
Thus the women of the lower class-
es wear, even in summer, a large
woollen cloak, like that of the men,
which completely covers the whole
person, excepting the head, and that
is enveloped in a white handkerchief.
The artisans and others of the infe-
rior classes also throw a mantle care-
lessly over their shoulders, and this
is the mark of distinction between
them and the higher ranks. A ho-

men de capofe, " a man with a man-
tle," and homen de gravaia lavada,
" a man with a washed cravat," are,
in the colloquial style, the appella-
tions of a gentleman, and of one who
has no claim to that character.

The shops are totally destitute of
elegance ; but in those of the jewel-
lers, in the street called del Oro,
stones and trinkets of great value are
exhibited. The coffee-houses are
set off with much greater taste, and
in the better sort of them customers
are served entirely off silver. Since
the liberty of the press has occasion-
ed the publication of a variety of
newspapers, these houses are much
frequented, and the politicians dis-
cuss the state of the country over
their punch. Debates of this kind
also take place in many of the shops ;
and a custom, unknown in the north,
is for loungers to saunter from shop
to shop, in the hope of meeting with
acquaintances,and learning from them
the news of the day. In other places,
indeed, the shopkeepers deprecate
such visits, which certainly tend to
obstruct business; but no where in
the world do you find less anxiety to
sell, or less willingness to shew an
article that is inquired for, than here.
If you go away without purchasing,
you must expect a sour look ; if you
ask for any thing that is not to be
had in the shop, you are drily an-
swered, " Nao ha" (I have it not);
and if you inquire where it is to be
met with, the usual reply is, " Nao
sci" (I don't know). I mean not to
assert that this is the case in every
shop: in some you find more civility,
but in the greater part there prevails
a decided disinclination to take goods
down from the shelves and to shew
them, which forms an extraordinary
contrast with the attention paid to

THE loiterer:

customers in the shops of London,
and the politeness with which they
are treated, even if they should not
buy any thing.

From this description of the city
you will scarcely be able to conceive
how it can have any thing attractive
for a stranger, setting social life for
the present quite out of the question;
but when I tell you, that I am writing
this letter close to an open window,
under the most serene sky and in the
mildest temperature, you will easily
imagine, that a person accustomed to
a southern clime would prefer this
to the dreary winter of the north,
where nothing but colds and rheu-
matism await him. November and
December are here considered as the
rainy season; and yet I wish you
could enjoy the many serene sun-

shiny days which intervene, even in
those months, between the rainy
ones. There are not more than per-
haps two or three days on which
you feel the want of artificial heat
within doors; and hence there is
scarcely a house in which you meet
with the luxury of an English fire-
place.

Having treated of the male part
of the nation, I shall in my next di-
rect my attention to the other sex,
concerning which your fair readers
in particular will be desirous of some
information. I shall acquit myself
of this task with all possible impar-
tiality, though I cannot flatter my-
self that I shall give entire satisfac-
tion, either to the southern fair whom
I shall undertake to delineate, or to
my own countrywomen.

THE LOITERER.

No. VI.

I do not know whether my readers
will thank me for resuming my la-
bours, when I tell them that I have
been fairly piqued into doing so by a
visit which an acquaintance has just
paid me, for the charitable purpose
of rendering me equally dissatisfied
with my paper and myself. " So,"
cried he on entering, " you have
given up that foolish paper, the Loi-
terer."— " What do you mean? I
give up the Loiterer 1" — " Yes, so I
have been informed : it is a great pity
you did not do it sooner, or rather
that you ever began it. Between
ourselves, people talked enough be-
fore about the many foolish projects
that you had been engaged in, and
this last was certainly the most ridi-
culous of all."

I shall not detail all the reasons he

gave to convince me, that I was cer-
tainly the most unfit person on earth
for such an undertaking; suffice it to
say, that after an harangue of an
hour long he departed, very much
dissatisfied that he had not succeed-
ed in vexing me; and the moment he
was gone, I sat down to my desk,
with a determination not to stir from
it till I had written a very clever pa-
per, were it only to convince this
snarler, that he was utterly mistaken
when he told me I wrote like an old
woman.

But, in spite of myself, the conver-
sation that we had had ran so much
in my head, that I could think of
nothing else ; at last my anger abat-
ed, and I could not help looking with
pity on a man who, possessing all
that ought to render him happy, is
M %

ft 9

TUB LOITEl'.IvH.

miserable himself, and seems to have
no other business in life than to ren-
tier other people so.

However, if there be any thing in
descent, my friend Grieveall may
plead that this anti-social propensity
runs in his blood ; for I am credibly
informed, that his family, so far back
at least as his great-grandfather, evin-
ced the same disposition. That wor-
thy gentleman was long remembered
in the neighbourhood in which he
lived as the most indefatigable grum-
bler in the whole parish, and so great
an enemy to cheerfulness, that he
never suffered the sound of laughter
in his house. His eldest daughter
gave proof at a very early age that
she was his genuine descendant; her
practice was from her sex necessarily
more restricted than that of her fa-
ther, but she shewed her abilities in
her own family. Her first husband,
who was of a nervous habit, was ac-
tually worried into a state of melan-
choly madness by her incessant la-
mentations for the loss of a trifling
lawsuit, which she continually prog-
nosticated was only the beginning of
a series of misfortunes that she was
sure would happen to them; and she
rendered the married life of her eld-
est daughter wretched, by perpe-
tually predicting that her husband
would certainly die of a decline. Her
second daughter, the mother of my
friend, was a match for her at her
own weapons; nay, she was even, if
possible, more ingenious at finding
cause for sorrow at every thing that
happened either to herself or any
of her acquaintance. No matter
whether it was good or ill fortune ;
the former, according to her idea,
was always so sure a precursor of
the latter, that she never pitied her
fi-iends more than whon they imagin-

ed themselves at the summit of feli-
city.

I think I see the good lady now
with her pale prim visage, compress-
ed lips, and that sorrowful air which
procured her, among her acquaint-
ance, the appellation of the queen
of grief. She is indelibly impressed
upon my memory, from the circum-
stance of having once frightened my
mother, who was very fond of me,
into violent hysterics, by a positive
assurance that a slight cut which I
had given to my thumb would end
in a locked jaw. The husband of this
amiable being was naturally of a
gloomy and sullen temper, which
shewed itself in finding fault perpe-
tually with every person that he had
any thing to do with. Grieveall inherits
the qualities of both his parents: like
his mother, he sees cause for lamen-
tation in whatever happens; and like
his father, he is sure to find fault
with whatever is done by others.

I have seen him pounce upon a
friend whom he has met in high spi-
rits with as much eagerness as a
hawk would on his prey, and grasp
him as hard as the latter would the
former, till he had succeeded in chas-
ing every ray of gladness from his
countenance. I remember once be-
ing in company with him when we
met an acquaintance, who had ju>t
unexpectedly come into possession
of a very good estate. Grieveall had
heard that the bequest of the pro-
perty was clogged with a condition to
reside constantly upon it: he imme-
diately laid his claws upon the gen-
tleman, whom he knew to be an ima-
ginary invalid, and though the place
is really one of the healthiest spots
in England, he soon contrived to
persuade the poor fellow that it would
never agree with his constitution.

THE LOITEKER.

My endeavours to prove the contra-
ry were quite unavailing, and he
quitted us with a visage as doleful as
it had been merry when we met him.

Another time I chanced to meet
Grieveall at a house-warming given by
the widow Hearty, upon whom he
essayed his talents for a long time
without success. It was in vain that
he found every possible fault Avitli
the house; that he pitied her for hav-
ing been so grossly imposed on as
to give double what it was worth for
it ; nay, that he was even sure, from
certain appearances which he alone
could discern in the walls, that it
might speedily be expected to tum-
ble about her ears. The widow's
good spirits were proof against all
his observations, till unfortunately
he noticed a winding-sheet in the
candle opposite to her, and as he
knew that she was a little supersti-
tious, he harangued on the unlucki-
ness of the omen, till he had the sa-
tisfaction to see the poor woman ac-
tually wretched.

My readers will readily believe
that this singular habit of persuad-
ing people to be miserable, whether
they have cause or not, renders |
Grieveall universally shunned and
disliked; indeed, there is no one that
will voluntarily endure his company
for ten minutes together if thev can
avoid it. In fact, such is his skill in
tormenting, that I scarcely ever knew I
any body converse with him without
being rendered miserable for the mo- J
ment, except Kit Kindheart, who
has a natural cheerfulness that
prompts him to see all that happens
tinged with couleur de rose, and a
warmth of benevolence, which makes
him desirous of giving the same im-
pression to others. There is no turn
of fortune, however adverse, that |

can happen to you, in which Kind-
heart will not find some lurking-hole
for hope to creep in at, and no si-
tuation in which you can be placed
whose hardships will not appear
lighter from his manner of repre-
senting them. This does not pro-
ceed from a want of feeling ; on the
contrary, no one has more sensibility,
but he has so long accustomed him-
self to see all that happens in the
fairest point of view, that he looks
as naturally to the bright as most
people do to the dark side of things ;
and as it is evident that his gaiety is
not the result of insensibility or le-
vity, but the. genuine offspring of a
warm heart and well-regulated mind,
so there is a happy contagion in his
cheerfulness, which extends itself to
all around him, and he may be re-
garded in some degree as a public
benefactor, for it is scarcely possible
to converse with him without becom-
ing happier. Fortune has, however,
been far less favourable to him than
to Grieveall: but straitened circum-
stances and indifferent health have
no power over that benevolent cheer-
fulness, which is its own reward, in
gaining him the esteem and regard
of all who know him; while Grieve-
all, possessed of a good fortune and
an excellent constitution, having in
short every means to render himself
and others happy, is, solely from the
indulgence of this detestable humour,
miserable himself, and an object of
dislike and avoidance to all who know
him.

But I see that my sketch of these
opposite characters has been drawn
to too great a length to permit my
giving my readers at present the ve-
ry clever paper I promised them.
N'hnporle! it is always good to have
something to look to, and I do now

faithfully promise to make up for
theirpresent disappointment, by pre-
senting them some day or other with

PIUOMCHIAL AXD CAOIMINA,

a Loiterer which shall be at least
three times more witty than ordinary.
N. Nevermove.

GAELIC RELICS.

No. IX.

PRIOMCHIAL, OR THE MOST WISE,

Son o/"Toscar na Slinnean Leud, the broad-shouldered Chief of the Clan Mac-
Leod; and Caoimina, or the bright- eyed, Daughter to Farbhalla na Lan, the
Buttress and Sword, Chief of the Southern Clan Macfarlane.

The poems of Ossian, and the
compositions of inferior bards soon
after the heroic ages, have depicted
a singular race, whose intense affec-
tions and romantic generosity enno-
bled the fiery intrepidity of their
warlike spirit, and whose mental cul-
tivation happily influenced their civil
institutions. The Highland chiefs
and their vassal kinsmen had easy
access to the seminaries of learning
at St. Columba and the more north-
ern isles; and their proficiency in
learning is still evinced by the classic
allusions in the odes and ouarskals
of the bards, who were generally
men of family, or nearly related to
the chiefs, and numbers acquired
much dear-bought knowledge of the
world by engaging in the Holy Wars.
When Doctor Samuel Johnson ex-
pressed his profound veneration for
the ruined piles of architecture,
which, amidst the tremendous gloom
of northern invasion and barbarism,
had preserved the lights of religion,
erudition, and science, it is much to
be regretted that the traditional his-
tory of St. Columba, " the Isle of
Holy Vigils," was not made known
to him. The slightest outline of
those poetic relics from his pen would
have excited a lively interest. In-
deed it is surprising that the names
and deeds of the illustrious Knights
of the Cross have found no perma-

nent record. We shall endeavour to
save a few from oblivion ; and it is
to be hoped more able translators
will add to the catalogue.

The roof of the church of St.
Mary of Iona, or St. Columba, was
shattered by the storms of last win-
ter; but we are assured the noble
proprietor will give orders for pre-
serving the walls from utter dilapi-
dation. This beautiful fabric was
constructed in the form of a cathe-
dral. The steeple is large and lofty ;
the cupola twenty-one feet square;
the doors and windows curiously
carved ; and the altar is of the finest
marble. The bodies of several Scot-
tish, Irish, and Norwegian kings
were there entombed, and some have
inscriptions in the Gaelic language.
There are, besides, many brief deli-
neations of ancient customs and ce-
remonies in Latin and in the dialect
of the country.

We have intimated that others of
the Hebridian Isles exhibit fine ar-
chitectural remains. About a quarter
of a mile from the place where the
small river Snizort joins the sea, its
waters form an islet, where was erect-
ed the metropolitan church of the
Isle of Skye. Besides the vestiges
of this cathedral, the parish of Sni-
zort contains many Druidical temples,
tumuli, and cairns ; but the most at-
tractive object for amateurs of per-

PIUOMCHIAL AND CAOIMINA.

spective grandeur is a natural obe-
lisk, three hundred feet in circuit at
the base, gradually tapering to a
point. It is computed to rise above
three hundred feet in altitude. N ot
far from the obelisk there is a ca-
taract, descending about ninety feet
perpendicularly ; and near the centre
nature has formed a bridge, or hol-
low arched path, where five or six
persons may walk abreast in the most
perfect security, and quite unmolest-
ed by the body of fluids which rolls
over their heads.

Tradition has assigned to this re-
markable spot the presence and in-
fluence of fairy powers. In the last
century it was implicitly believed,
that, just at a change of the moon,
a silvery haze, tinged with rainbow
colours, might be seen before " the
break of day ;" and after certain in-
vocations, a countenance of super-
human loveliness appeared, and by
inaudible movements of the lips con-
veyed to the initiated any information
they required. The details of the
following poem would fill many pa-
ges ; but, according to our usual prac-
tice, we have omitted tedious parti-
culars.

Spirits of tlie winds ! lulled by the
unaltered voice of mountain-water-
falls, how have ye slumbered along
your dizzy cliffs ! Come forth in all
your breath of might to speed the
rustling wings of war, returning to
the Isle of Mist, triumphant over the
howling tides of the north ! Hail !
thrice hail to the many-coloured ban-
ner of the skies ! Pour abroad from
your changing clouds, ye gales, to
urge the prows of my friends ! Im-
petuous surges, rush to the rocky
hollows of our green-skirted shores!
Red, broken, and foggy, the beams
of day have dipped low in the west-

ern main. Dingy vapours toss around
the crescent moon ; the stars shroud
their bright eyes in a thick mantle of
night; and the ghosts of the renown-
ed in arms are watching for the far-
streaming ensigns of Toscar na Slin-
nean Leud and his race of heroes.
Their arms of strength are stretched
over labouring oars to cleave the bil-
lows, and their manly voices peal
the song of victory from coast to
coast. They have drenched the
lance and spear in the blood of the
sons of rapine. Their arms are red
as tusks of the wild dog of the de-
sert ravaging a forest of deer. The
warriors of the Isle of Mist have
strode in dreadful might over the
northern foe. The clang of their
deathful steel and the war-cry of
their valour resounded among a thou-
sand caverned islets ; their weapons
have reeked in the gore of spoilers,
and their fame is in every land. Seer
of good and evil ! a faint light from
the decaying oak shewed the sad-
ness of thy brow on the night when
Toscar na Slinnean Leud and his
stars of battle shaped their course
to the Orcadian seas.

" The brow of the aged was sad,"
replied the seer, " when the chief of
our clan of renown and his stars of
battle steered their war -barks to
crush the plunderers of our streamy
vales. Formless and dark hung the
load on his soul. Now he sees more
clearly the vision of grief. He sees
the right hands of victory baffling
with firm heart the fierce rulers of
the hidden deep. In rage for the
shame of Faicilleach, leader of the
northern rapine, the terrible genii
are rising from their crystalline tow-
ers— their loud-echoing roar of cur-
rents, their dashing whirlpools have
awoke the' spirit of the storm. He

PRIOMCHIAL AND CAOIMINA.

flaps his thundering wings, and gust
on gust answers to the sound. As
a gleam of lightning shews the dreary
waste of a desert, I see in the fading
glimpses of my secret soul the me-
teors of death in the flame of battle.
I see them struggling through the
tempestuous darkness. Through the

low coose-wood mv ear met the first

1 ...

whistling blast mingling with the

hoarse torrent that clamours to lose
itself in the heaving brine of the
northern main. I hear at further
distance the well-known voices of
them that shook the lance and spear
of might, and broke the closest rank
of foes. Now they sink feebly, and
more feeble, in the coldness of death.
A pale but stately shade rides on the
eddying gales of the troubled sky.
By his bright-studded shield I know
it for the ghost of Farbhalla na Lan,
chief of the southern clans. Joy on
joy to the Isle of Mist! Steeped in
tears and wrapped in gloom, the
joy follows bursts of grief. Toscar
na Slinnean Leud, the blazing sun
of warriors, and his elder race, are
deep in the oozy beds of ocean ; but
Priomchial, the most wise, has gained
an isle unknown. I see him, within
a stony girdle, seated by a bud of
loveliness, sprung from heroes of far-
spreading name. Farbhalla, wei<2,h-
tiest lance to hew down the foes of
Iberia, retire in the smile of peace
to thy cave of rest! Thy daughter
lives, and shall shine a mother of
heroes in the isle of the mighty.
Her parent of three generations and
the aged son of the church lie stiff
for the narrow house, to be prepared
by stranger hands. The bud of beau-
ty and her speechless waiting-dame
shall again mingle in the haunts of
men. I see Priomchial and the vas-
sal friends snatched from the waves

by his unfailing arm — the sun has
risen and set upon their mournful
thoughts of them that lie beneath
the currents. They recline on a jut-
ting headland in motionless woe;
their eyes fixed on the tumbling surf,
covered with the wreck of their fleet,
till Priomchial arose and spoke to
his comrades, arousing the manhood
of their souls. They wander along
the narrow coast in search of their
friends, alive or dead; but no greet-
ing hand, no kindling eye, no voice
of gladness, no wave-tossed corse,
appears. Spent with sorrow, and
wasted by fatigue, the warriors cast
themselves on the barren heath : no
bird, no fly skims the air. A wreath-
ing haze obscures the noontide sun ;
for a pillar of smoke shoots from a
peak of the mountains, and then falls
among the lower clouds. Night be-
gins to drop her lengthening dusky
shadows, and again the unconquered
spirit of Priomchial awakes the cou-
rage of his vassals. They leave the
stony-girdled shore. Nuts and ber-
ries reward their search, and shel-
tering trees protect them from the
keen gale of evening. A path among
thickets of hazel leads to a trem-
bling ray of light : they follow ; the
light is streaming through tangled
branches of the fairy-ruled aspen.
Pale signs of awe are on the features
of the brave. From elvish power
they shrink with affright ; but vary-
ing strains of soft music assure them
no evil spell lurks around. Guided
by the eye, and drawn by the ear,
they enter a low-browed cave, a re-
fuge from the false lights of Jan Jo-
lamach*. Transfixed with wonder,
they behold a blossom of loveliness
* John the Changeable, a name given
by the Gael in Popish times to John
Wickliffe, the Reformer.

ritlOMCHIAL AND CAOIMINA.

chaunting a holy requiem for the
souls of the dead, while an aged
hand strews wild flowers over two
lifeless forms of gathered years. The
blossom of beauty hears no step ;
her soul dwells in grief for them that
breathe no more ; but sounds from a
voice denied the power of words
break upon her thoughts. Stately
yet mild she arose from her bended
knees.

" * Warriors '.' she said, ' the Holy
Virgin hath sent you to my prayers,
to lay in peaceful earth the mother
of my grandsire. Long she awaited
the slow release from pain ; but the
sainted son of the church, at the mo-
ment when he gave a last benedic-
tion to her parting spirit, fell in death
at her feet. No further may I re-
veal; my vows of silence could be
dissolved only by lips now closed for
ever.'

" Supported by the manly arm of
Priomchial, the maid sings a hymn
of devotion over the grave where
rests a daughter of Treabhantas of
the mighty feats, ancestor of Toscar
na Slinnean Leud, the hero of he-
roes. The last hope of Skye and
his followers raise the ancient son of
the church for rites of sepulture : a
roll of wisdom drops from his breast:
Caoimina is freed from her vows, and
her tale of early years unfolded.
Farbhalla na Lan, the brightest lance
of Iberia, is darkened by the false
lights of Jan Jolamach, when the
chief of southern clans had his fleet
scattered and broken by storms on
the coast of Albion. Farbhalla re-
turns to Scothi, and spreads the wiles
of Jan Jolamach through his people.
His spouse has died under the ban
of the church. Farbhalla is mixed
in the revels of Scotia's king : he

Vol. III. No. XIV.

carouses, he joins in the midnight
dance, and Caoimina is in the mist
of heresy. But the hoary head of
the daughter of Treabhantas*, long
sheltered in the peaceful cloister, is
again bared to wintry skies: she
snatches the child of her grandson
from the horrors of eternal condem-
nation, and flees to an islet of the
north, with no human associate ex-
cept her youthful descendant, her
ghostly father, and a speechless
waiting-dame. As a dove of the
rock, Caoimina grew in beauty; her
lovely pinions shall soar in joy for
the isle of the mighty. The chief
shall cherish her in his bosom ; the
vassals shall find gladness in her pre-
sence. Bard of the songs of war
and peace, be it thine to tell to fu-
ture generations this vision of my
soul, when the event has proved my
truth. Grief and joy contend in my
bosom. I mourn the dead, and re-
joice in Priomchial, that shall return
to exalt the fame of his fathers."

" In the light of my soul I go to
seek the last son of Toscar na Slin-
nean Leud," answered the bard.
" My ship of strength rides in our
neai-est haven. I manned the oars
and bent the sails to meet my chief-
tain kinsman, the friend of my youth
and age, whose sleep beneath the
waves has filled the inward eye of
our seer of good and evil. But where
shall we seek the hope of our clan?
Seer of events and places distant or
near, say, where may we find the stay
of our people?"

" The stony-girdled islet is name-
less to my soul," returned the seer.
" But this night of a changing moon,
I invoke the fair face of the rock-

* Ancestor of the Marchioness of
Hastings.
N

POINTS OF HONOUR.

sheltered waterfall. In the misty
blending of light and darkness, the
voiceless moving lips shall answer to
my secret thoughts. I fear not to
approach the secret haunt of the spi-
rit of beauty and wisdom, though no
foot of man may follow my steps."

The seer invoked the fair face of
the waterfall, and with the bard
sought Priomchial and Caoimina in
the stony-girdled islet. They have
shone lights of a mighty clan, and
their fame shall never fail.

B. G.

POINTS OF HONOUR.

It is a great relief to the mind
when it turns with disgust from the
numerous misdeeds that are falsely
called honourable, to consider how
much genuine honour is, notwith-
standing, to be met with in the
unobtrusive intercourse of private
life. The mask of false honour is
almost sure to fall off sooner or later,
leaving the rogue who wore it ex-
posed, in all the deformity of vice, to
public indignation; but true honour,
which, in peaceable times, can shew
itself only in acts of probity and ge-
nerosity, is happily too common to
obtain particular mention.

V The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their bones."

I flatter myself there are very few
English families that cannot boast of
at least one member who has per-
formed some act of honour or bene-
ficence, which, could it have been
celebrated by any of the famous po-
ets or historians of antiquity, would
have received universal approbation,
and have been held up to the emula-
tion of succeeding ages. By honour,
I understand that fine principle which
renders the mind superior to mean-
ness; which leads us to avoid what-
ever is wrong, not on account of the
penalties attached to the commission
of it, but on account of its deviation
from rectitude; which induces the
most scrupulous justice, even where
the lawe? fashions, or opinions of the

world would be satisfied with some-
thing less ; and which prompts us to
confer obligations in so delicate a
manner, that their weight may not
be irksome to those upon whom they
are conferred.

It was this principle which produc-
ed, among a few noble-minded hea-
thens, effects resembling those which
Christianity is calculated to produce
upon all men ; and since it is rather
extended and refined, than supersed-
ed, by that divine system, it ought
not to be suffered to fall into dissue-
tude until mankind shall be in a
state to dispense with incentives to
goodness. But viewing the subject
in a practical light, I may spare my
reflections, and avail myself of ex-
amples.

A distinguished officer, whose name
would adorn any page, had contract-
ed a debt payable with interest, but
subject to the performance of certain
conditions on the part of the credit-
or, who, by the way, was a man of
no principle. With a negligence not
uncommon in such characters, the
creditor omitted to fulfil his condi-
tions; by which means his claim was,
in point of law, vitiated. A few years
afterwards, the creditor was concern-
ed in some fraudulent transactions,
and1 being detected, he found it pru-
dent to flee his country, leaving a
wife and family to reap the fruits of
his misconduct. Their wretched

POINTS OP HONOUR.

case no sooner reached the ears of
the general, than, moved with com-
passion and a fine sense of honour,
he ordered the accounts between
himself and the creditor to be open-
ed and fully investigated ; and al-
though, by the lapse of time, nothing
could now have been legally de-
manded, yet he had the strict ba-
lance ascertained, which amounted
to a considerable sum. Being ex-
ceedingly liberal in his dealings, and
having a large establishment to main-
tain, he could not, at the moment,
command the whole amount; but he
advanced the larger part to meet the
immediate necessities of the widow-
ed wife, and requested a certain time
for the payment of the remainder,
which he fully discharged on the day
appointed. I need not add, that the
manner of performing this noble
deed was worthy of the deed itself:
for as none but a mind naturally
great, or refined by education and
example, could be capable of it, so
it could not fail to partake of the
feeling and delicacy peculiar to per-
sons of that description.

Miss, or Mistress (as she was lat-
terly called), Bertha Rowley was a
shining example of practical honour ;
though, living in retirement, the ra-
diance of it was shed on a very li-
mited circle. With her honour was
a pervading sentiment, which might
be traced in almost all her actions.
In the article of love, which forms
so principal a business of life, she
conducted herself with singular pro-
priety, and endured many severe
trials and temptations with unshaken
constancy. In her youth, I have
heard, she was considered a great
beauty, and when I had the pleasure
of being admitted of her acquaint-
ance, in her fiftieth year, time had

not obliterated all traces of what she
had been. She retained a sparkling
eye, a fair complexion, regular fea-
tures, and an expression of counte-
nance as benignant as I ever beheld.
Her figure was tall and slim, her
manners lady-like, a little after the
old school, and her conversation was
both amusing and instructive, at times
perhaps somewhat redundant. When
about nineteen years of age, she was
courted by a young gentleman of
agreeable person and great merit,
but of inconsiderable fortune. Her
guardian, who designed her for his
own son, was shocked at the impru-
dence of such a connection, and de-
clared that it never should receive
his sanction. The young lady, how-
ever, was not disposed to fall in with
his views, and told him frankly, that
though he might delay, it was not in
his power to prevent her happiness.
Her lover, who was intended for a
physician, departed for Edinburgh,
to complete his education and obtain
his diploma. The hardships of their
separation, it may be supposed, were
mitigated by an active and tender
correspondence. Unhappily, the
poor youth was so stimulated by the
disinterested affection of his Bertha,
as to prosecute his studies with an
intemperate ardour, which, together
with the want of proper exercise and
recreation, undermined his constitu-
tion, and brought him to the grave
a few weeks after he had attained
the honours which he too eagerly
sought. Poor Bertha was over-
whelmed at this unexpected bereave-
ment; for a long time she remained
inconsolable, and seemed to desire
nothing so much as to share the fate
of her lover : however, the violence
of her grief at length subsided, though
she never could divest herself of a
N 2

POINTS OF HONOUR.

latent melancholy. After a few years
had passed away, and it was suppos-
ed that the young doctor was forgot-
ten, a good - natured worthy man,
whose estate was suitable to her own,
and bordered upon it, as he thought
most propitiously, made overtures for
consolidating the estates by a matri-
monial alliance of the proprietors :
but the proposal had no other effect
than to call forth a declaration from
Miss Rowley, that she cherished the
memory of one departed too fondly
ever to encourage the addresses of
another, or to harbour the thoughts
of changing her condition. She beg-
ged the squire to believe that she re-
spected him as a neighbour, but her
heart was not at her disposal ; and,
therefore, she requested him to give
up all thoughts of her. The good
man had sense enough to see that
she was in earnest, and accordingly
turned his affections another way.
When she attained the critical age
of forty, which may be called the
neap " tide in the affairs of" spin-
sters, one Captain O'Standish came
on a hunting excursion into that part
of the country, and became a very
importunate suitor to Miss Rowley;
but to no purpose, for she still made
it ix point of honour never to give her
hand without her heart ; and shortly
afterwards, in some measure to guard
against similar applications for the
future, she assumed the dress of the
elderly gentlewoman and the appel-
lation of Mistress. Now where, I
would ask, can be found a more ho-
nourable instance of devoted attach-
ment, or of female fortitude, than in
this voluntary submission to the un-
merited yet irritating contumely inci-
dental to the state of old maid, ra-
ther than shew dishonour to the me-
mory of her first love? i

The conduct of this lady was
throughout of the same admirable
tenor. The ancients and moderns
seem agreed, that true honour is in
nothing more conspicuous, than in
awarding a full meed of praise to
those we dislike, especially where
the dislike is of old standing, and ad-
mits but little prospect of reconcilia-
tion; not that Mrs. Rowley har-
boured animosities, but, as she would
sometimes remark, " there are peo-
ple whom, with the best disposition
in the world, one never can cordially
love. They are so perverse, that
even when one goes to them with a
determination to be friendly, they al-
ways conjure up something to nulli-
fy our good intentions. I am sure I
would fain be on as good terms with
cousin Martin as with any other
cousin, but she never would let me.
When we were at school together,
we used always to be bickering and
telling tales of one another, and the
authority of the governess was bare-
ly sufficient to keep our resentments
within the bounds of decorum. As
she grew up, she had her share of
troubles as I had mine. I felt a
good deal for her, but a coolness has
always subsisted between us. Yet
I must say, that never daughter be-
haved better to both parents than
she did, and as a wife and mother I
really don't know her equal. How-
ever, there is no accounting for likes
and dislikes: still, if she were ever
to stand in need of any thing in my
power, I should make a point of do-
ing by her as I would by any other
of my relations in the same degree."

In money matters, which, after all,
are the best criterion, Mrs. R. was
remarkable for a judicious liberality.
She was scrupulously just and punc-
tual in her payments^ living within

POINTS OF HONOUR.

her income, that she might have
something to dispose of in charity ;
yet making an appearance suitable to
her fortune, which was ample. Much
good she did in secret, for the de-
light of her own benevolent disposi-
tion ; some was done in public (not
ostentatiously), for the sake of exam-
ple. Thus whenever a brief was
read at church, she made it a point
never to pass the plate without put-
ting in her mite ; on which occasions
she would sometimes say to the
churchwarden, " Ah! Mr. White-
staff, if you held the plate for the
Hottentots there would be plenty in
it, but our own countrymen are sad-
ly forgotten." Her private charities
may be estimated by a single exam-
ple. A nephew of hers came to the
possession of a good property in the
north of England: being a sporting
character, addicted to play, at which
he was generally unsuccessful, he dis-
posed of the moveables as fast as he
could, and encumbered the freehold
as long as he could find mortgagees,
all for the satisfaction of his debts of
honour. He had an old housekeeper,
named Alice, a careful, faithful crea-
ture, whose frugal management kept
things from going to utter ruin much
longer than such an event could
have been deferred by any other hu-
man agency. Now Mrs. Rowley
never would let him rest till he had
promised to remember this poor wo-
man in his will. His favourite apho-
rism being, (t a short life and a merry
one," his habits were so conformable
to it, that he died of infirmity before
he had completed his thirtieth year.
When his will was opened, he ap-
peared to have remembered Alice in
an annuity of 20/. for life ; only, he
had forgotten to direct how it was to

be paid. On examining the condi-
tion of his estate, and collecting all
that was due to it, enough was raised
to pay his j ust debts, and to leave a
residue, which resembled a little drop
in a large goblet, and even this little
was absorbed by the lawyer's bill for
" winding up the affairs," as he phras-
ed it : so that no provision remained
for Alice's annuity.

Mrs. Rowley heard with surprise
and regret of the untimely termina-
tion of her nephew's career; for
though she considered him a giddy
youth, she always cherished the
hope that he would some day see
his errors and forsake them, and turn
out a bright man, as some of his an-
cestors had before him. Her first
care was about the housekeeper,
whose annuity she resolved to pay
out of her own purse. But her
great point now was to conceal the
insufficiency of the estate of the de-
ceased, and therein his want of ho-
nour in not providing for his bequest.
This matter she arranged so clever-
ly, that poor Alice consoled herself
with reflecting, that, amidst all his fol-
lies and failings, her master had been
mindful of her fidelity. Nor would
she ever have been undeceived, had
not the excellent Mrs. Rowley been
summoned to a better world before
the object of her honourable bounty.
By her will she gave an annuity of
201. to Alice for the remainder of
her days: this the good woman at
first imagined would prove a clear
addition to her income, but when
quarter-day arrived, she found, to her
disappointment, that " the master's
bounty," as she called it, ceased as
soon as Mrs. Rowley's became pay-
able.

©<J>.

\«

THE TIC DOULOUREUX.
TO THE EDITOR.

Sin,

This painful disease, which
has hitherto baffled the skill of the
faculty, has for some time past en-
grossed my attention. I have endea-
voured to trace the malady to its
source, to follow its ramifications,
and, if possible, to discover a reme-
dy. In the two former attempts I
think I have succeeded ; and in the
latter, if I have not been entirely
successful, I may safely say I have
been enabled in most cases consider-
ably to alleviate the pain, and, in
many instances, altogether to eradi-
cate the disease.

In respect to the origin of this af-
flicting malady, the conclusion at
which I have arrived is, that it has
its source in a diseased state of the
pecuniarium, or pocket intestine (so
called from its resemblance to an es-
sential part of modern dress). This
organ, when in a healthy condition,
is found to contain a considerable
quantity of a thin transparent film,
resembling silver paper, and much
spotted with black, accompanied by
small round flat substances of a yel-
low or white colour. In all cases of
the Tic Douloureux which have
come under my observation, where
the patient has died of the disease
and been opened, I have invariably
found a total deficiency of the above-
mentioned substances. To this cause
therefore I feel justified in attributing
this disease; and indeed my practice
has confirmed the theory : for, having
proceeded on the principle of restor-
ing the pecuniarium to a healthy
state, I have generally been success-
ful in curing the complaint.

Before I proceed to lay before the
practitioner my mode of treatment,
it will be necessary that I should de-
tail the symptoms attendant on this
disease, and which distinguish it from
others of a similar appearance.

The first symptoms observable in
the patient are, considerable languor
and disinclination to take the air,
with a particular rolling of the eye,
not to be observed in any other dis-
ease that I know of; also a great ner-
vous irritability, so that a knock at
the door, or a tap on the shoulder,
is often sufficient to throw the pa-
tient into fits. The disease is often
accompanied by an unaccountable
absence of mind and shortness of
memory, such as forgetting one's
purse or one's small debts; also by a
depraved and craving appetite, indi-
cated by a readiness to accept invi-
tations to dinner and the like. As
the complaint becomes more confirm-
ed, the habits of the patient become
I quite changed. He is guilty of little
I meannesses quite at variance with
his real character, acquires a sly sus-
picious look, seldom stirs out of
doors before dusk, sneaks up alleys,
looks round corners, becomes shabby
and slovenly in his dress, and may,
if closely watched, be seen diving
for a dinner, when perhaps in his
healthy state nothing less than Long's
or the Albion would have satisfied
him. He often takes a dislike to
certain streets or shops, which he
avoids as a mad dog does a pool of
water. I once had a friend afflicted
with this disease; and in the course
of our perambulations, I often found
him stop suddenly, turn round, whisk

THE TIC DOULOUREUX.

9.1

me over to the other side of the j
street, change arms as we went along, j
and occasionally avert his head: all
this without any apparent cause.
There was one spot in particular of
which I found him exceedingly shy.
This extended from Weston's in
Bond-street to Hoby's in St. James's.
" There was," he used to say, " those
glaring windows of Hoby's on one
side, and of Moore's (late Bicknell)
on the other, forming a cross-fire
through the very focus of fashionable
resort. If you were lucky enough,"
he would add, " to weather Weston's,
there stood the other two, the very
Scylla and Charybdis of Tic Dou-
loureuxists, through which not even
Palinurus himself, if afflicted with
the disease, could have steered with-
out trembling. "

Though lowness of spirits is ge-
nerally found with this disease, it is
by no means to be considered as a
never-failing symptom; for as the
complaint is one which no one wishes
to be thought to have, the patient
often assumes an appearance quite
opposite to his feelings.

Young men embarking in life I
have observed are more subject to
this complaint than older persons.
It is frequently brought on by dissi-
pation, high living, and excess of any
kind, such as late hours, hard drink-
ing, hunting in the extreme, &c. all
which have a natural tendency to
drain the pecuniarium. In short, in
all cases where the draught on the
organ is greater than the supply of
aliment furnished to it, the disease
of the Tic Douloureux is sure to be
induced.

A general looseness in the moral
system is also often the cause of the
complaint ; and when it so originates,
it generally proves incurable. Per-

sons who have this constitutional
taint are mostly troubled with such
an absence of mind as to be guilty of
the greatest absurdities, such as mis-
taking another man's pocket for their
own, and betraying on all occasions
a total ignorance of the principle of
meum and tuum. Indeed, such is of-
ten their distraction of mind, that
they have been known to forget their
own names, and in signing a letter,
or drawing a bill, to substitute that
of some other person. When the
disease takes this turn, although oc-
casional intermissions of pain may be
experienced, it almost always proves
fatal. In some it will cause a kind
of fidgettiness in the fingers, parti-
cularly when engaged in any game of
chance likely to interest the passions,
and a certain distortion of the optics,
so as to make them mistake the throw
of a die or the face of a card. But
these, though apparently as bad
symptoms as the foregoing, and in
the vulgar eye equally malignant,
are, nevertheless, by no means so
dangerous. A severe twitching sen-
sation in the seat of honour, such as
would be experienced from a kick by
a sharp boot, is generally the most
the patient suffers in this state of the
complaint. Indeed such habits, if
not followed by the twitching pain
alluded to, will often lead to an en-
tire cure ; and I have known persons
who have been grievously afflicted
with the Tic Douloureux for years,
afterwards enjoying the best health
from the successful practice of habits
brought on by the disease itself, and
which apparently depraved propen-
sities, by taking a different turn in
patients of a poorer state of body,
have led to the most fatal conse-
quences.

In persons of a sanguine tempera-

THE TIC DOULOU1UUX.

ment this disease is highly danger-
ous. It invariably produces hypo-
chondriasis, and often insanity. The
natural consequence is, that the pa-
tient frequently puts an end to him-
self in a violent paroxysm of pain, or,
which is equally effectual to the same
end, makes away with some one else.

The complaint most frequently re-
curs about Christmas : therefore pa-
tients should be very careful of them-
selves about this period, particularly
as to food and exercise. They should
on no account venture out of doors
without being well muffled up. Snipes
and woodcocks, which abound at this
season of the year, should be care-
fully avoided, as they are sure to
bring on a severe paroxysm of the
complaint, so as to oblige the patient
to keep his room, or, which is still
more disagreeable, to be confined to
one which he cannot quit at pleasure.

Having thus detailed what I con-
ceive to be the cause and prevailing
symptoms of the Tic Douloureux, I
shall proceed to point out the prac-
tice I pursue in its treatment.

In the first place I generally, as
in most chronic complaints, begin j
with a course of alteratives, affecting !
the system generally ; but, as I be- j
fore observed, my chief attention is
directed to produce a change in the
organ wherein I consider the disease
to originate. In severe cases, parti-
cularly where the complaint seems to
be caused by a deficiency of the ne-
cessary contents of the pecuniarium,
I generally prescribe the following
dose:

Extractof Peruvian mines .... 1 oz.
Decoction of rich uncles . . , , 2 oz.

Infusion of bank-paper 3 gr.

Tincture of mint 6 gr.

Syrup of matrimony \ oz.

Three or more spoonfuls to be taken daily,
according to the strength of the disease.

But when the symptoms indicate
more of a laxity in the pecuniarium
than a deficiency in its necessary ali-
ment, the following astringent I have
generally found to answer:

Spirit of economy 4 grs.

Pulverized flint-skins ..... 3 grs.

Calcined prudence G grs.

To be divided into twenty pills, one to be
taken every night.

Among the poor or labouring classes
I have often found ten drops, or so,
of the formic acid (commonly called
acid of ants), mixed up with a few
grains of prudence, taken daily, suf-
ficient to restore the diseased organ
to its proper tone.

Besides these medicines, I gene-
rally recommend low diet and absti-
nence from all kinds of dissipation;
the patient, at the same time, to be
kept carefully quiet and free from the
intrusion of visitors. And, as change
of air is of the greatest importance
in this complaint, I would have him,
if leading a town-life, immediately to
retire to the country ; or, if his means
do not admit of this, to take up his
abode in a garret, where he will
breathe a purer air and be less lia-
ble to disturbance. Exercise I also
recommend, but it must be on foot,
not on horseback or in a carriage.
Perseverance in the above system I
have in most cases found effectual,
particularly if the patient is of a ha-
bit of body to bear lowering. But,
though I proceed upon the plan of
keeping my patients as low as possi-
ble, I must caution the practitioner
against the use of the lancet, bleed-
ing being fatal in this disease, which
is, in fact, often brought on by an
haemorrhage pf the pecuniarium. If,
however, any rich friend or relation
can be brought to submit to that
operation, so that a portion of the
precious fluid may be introduced into

THE TIC DOULOUREUX.

the veins of the patient, I have no
doubt the effect would be most sa-
lutary.

A removal to the milder air of the
Continent is often recommended and
practised in this complaint ; and, in-
deed, persons so afflicted who can-
not live at home, often do well
abroad. But it is a measure which
I do not frequently advise, unless the
patient resolves to remain permanent-
ly abroad ; for the immediate relief
afforded generally tempts him to
indulge in practices which the milder
air enables him to do with impunity,
but which, by becoming habitual,
may, on a return to a less genial cli-
mate, occasion an incurable relapse.

Now, though in most cases I have
found the treatment above-mentioned
to mitigate the disease, and often to
effect an entire cure, yet I must con-
fess, that for some very obstinate ca-
ses of the Tic Douloureux I have
not been able to discover any reme-
dy in medicine. Accident, however,
will frequently occasion results which
art could not effect ; and I have seen
more than one case, wherein a pati-
ent suffering under the most aggra-
vating symptoms of the complaint
has obtained immediate relief, and
experienced an entire cure from sud-
den and violent action of the pas-
sions, such as joy on the receipt of
good and unexpected news; and even
a sudden shock on hearing of the
death of a relation I have known to
produce the same effect ; a circum-
stance which, under any other com-
plaint, it is fairly to be presumed
would have caused an opposite re-
sult.

There is also a minor disease of

the 77c Douloureux, which has not,
that I know of, been yet noticed by
the faculty, but which is extremely
distressing. It consists in severe
spasms or palpitations of the peczini-
armm. Any sudden disappointment
will often occasion this complaint;
such as running up a bill at a tavern,
and finding you have not money
enough in your pocket to discharge
it; being out of cash before you get
to the end of your journey; a thing-
coming to much more than you ex-
pected, &c. &c. These spasms I
myself was at one time subject to.
Once wishing to treat Mrs. Bolus to
the Opera, I went into a shop in
Bond-street to procure a box, when,
to my unspeakable surprise, I found
that the price was seven guineas. Hav-
ing neglected to ascertain this point
previous to fixing on the box, I found
myself in an awkward dilemma. The
palpitations in the pecuniarium were
so severe that I could hardly bear
them, and on the other hand I had
bespoken the box. What was to be
done? I hummed and hawed, and
backed and backed till I reached the
shop-door, when by a sudden bolt I
sought relief in the open air. The
treatment I pursue in this complaint
is nearly the same, but in a milder
form, as that I practise in cases of
the Tic Douloureux.

It may be necessary to acquaint
the public that I receive patients at
my house, No. 7, Golden - square,
between the hours of ten and one;
and that letters (post-paid), inclosing
a remittance, will be duly attended
to. I am, sir, yours, &c. &c.

Bolus.

Foi. in, ,No,-xiv.-

A CHRISTMAS PARTY.

(Concluded from p. 41.)
TEA AND CARDS.

Afteii innumerable healths and
toasts, smart jokes, long stories, and
long and animated discussions on the
poor's-rates of Stepney parish, the
often repeated summons to the up-
per house was at length obeyed ; we
rose to join the ladies. Narrow as
the architect had planned the pro-
portions of the staircase, the ascent
just now proved a matter of import-
ance to most of the jovials; and Mr.
Philpotts, trusting his sole to the
slippery fulcrum of a Lisbon nut,
dropt no doubt by some of the young
amiables on the stair-carpet, had the
misfortune to lacerate his black ines-
timables right across the knee; a
hiatus valde deflendus, which, upon
serious consultation, was pronounced
to require a change of decoration
from the wardrobe of our kind host,
inasmuch as the sufferer, no doubt
from dietetic motives, had all his life-
time been an enemy to the use of
sub-estimables.

On entering the drawing-room,
the sympathetic looks of Mrs. P.
were, of course, the first to espy her
spouse's change of costume; and
when she learnt the cause, instead
of sympathizing in his escape from
bodily harm, she cruelly animadvert-
ed upon the state of his mental func-
tions, protesting, that such a Christ-
mas as this she would have cause to
remember all the rest of her days ;
for what with her ruined mazarine
.and Mr. P.'s satins, new last Lord
Mayor's day only, there was as good
as ten guineas out of Mr. P.'s pocket.

Mrs. Waffle made a thousand apo-
logies, and in her endeavours to in-

stil comfort, observed, that one new
breadth of silk would do the business
effectually. " One new breadth!"
exclaimed her disconsolate friend ;
" then I hope, ma'm, you will send
to France for it; for my husband
smuggled it from Button in the crown
of his hat, when we were there last
August."—" That I did," added Mr.
P. " and ' dash' me if I do again ! I
shall never forget the ' stew' I was in."
In order to divert the conversation
to some more interesting topic, I di-
rected my attention to a representa-
tion of Jacob and Rachael at the
Well, worked in embroidery, and sus-
pended, in a frame totally enveloped
in silver paper, over the piano-forte.
1 respectfully asked Mrs. Waffle whe-
ther this was the work of one of the
young ladies. She smilingly replied,
" I wish it was, baron: 'tis hardly to
be expected; though they work pret-
tily enough, and Dorothy, I am told,
draws the best in her school. Go and
fetch your portfoils, my dears, and
shew Baron Bitterhouse some of your
human figures and foreign prospects.
— But that there piece, baron, is of
my own working. I was ten months
a doing of it, and the number of co-
lours in it would surprise you. Could
you believe that I used one hundred
and twelve different coloured skeins ?"
— " Is it possible?" — " A fact, baron;
but most on 'em are so faded, that
you can't hardly see a difference.
The blues and reds, howsomever,
have stood remarkably well."

Our hostess now proceeded with
much formality to that solemn social
ofllce, the making of tea, taking care,

A CHRISTMAS PARTY.

in order to " make it good," to enforce
the dose of ingredients, so as to pro-
duce an infusion superlatively astrin-
gent ; a perfect styptic, which, if admi-
nistered before dinner, would prove a
great saving, by contracting theprimce
rice, so as to render them almost inca-
pable of deglutition. It seemed as
if I had a solution of alum suspended
between my fauces, but there was no
remedy but to swallow the supersa-
turated green potion. The coffee,
which at first I had declined, but
which all present extolled to the skies,
seemed to offer an antidote to the
Chinese poison. Its colour and fla-
vour certainly shewed it to have been
concocted upon principles diametri-
cally opposite to those followed in
the confection of the tea. The cof-
fee exhibited a dull aqueous appear-
ance, and in its taste possessed a
multitude of various twangs; one
might taste every thing but coffee in
it. I had the curiosity to ask Mrs.
W. how this compound was fabricat-
ed ; and she obligingly replied, " I
thought you would like it, baron;
you foreign gentlemen are fond of
strong coffee, and our Sally has a
name for making it good : to be sure
I told her to put a spoonful or two
more into it than usual. There is
also isinglass and hartshorn-shavings,
and the yolk of an egg ; but the fla-
vour which you admire so much is
owing to the mustard. 'Tis quite
another thing with a good spoonful
of mustard."- — " There can be no
doubt of that, ma'm," observed the
sarcastic Mr. Basil Jones.

Miss Dorothy and her junior sis-
ter had by this time put their port-
foils, as mamma called them, into a
state of preparation, and the contents
passed with becoming regularity, like

brickbats leaping through a file of
Hibernians, from one hand to an-
other ; Mrs. Waffle, as an artist her-
self, explaining the subjects with clas-
sic accuracy and acumen.

" This here young woman, gen-
tlemen, with the bow-r and harrows,
I am told is Diana, the goddess of
chaste-ity and hunting." — " Not of
husbands, then," added Mr. Basil
Jones. — " Upon honourable terms,
I suppose, Mr. J." — " True, ma'm,
not a wild-goose chase at all times."

" Here's as sweet a drawing as any
Dorothy has done; they are the nine
Muses, with their mother, Princess
Niopeh." — " N or Q, no doubt," said
the facetious Mr. Basil Jones ; for
which interruption Mrs. W. serious-
ly reprimanded him, and he promis-
ed to " mind his P's and Q's for the
future."

" This here — I declare, Dorothy,
I am almost ashamed to shew it — I
have told you so often, my dear, I
don't wish you to draw them sort of
figures; they may be all very fine,
but in my time a young woman would,
I'm sure, have hesintated to draw-r
a thing of the kind. But Dorothy
has a particular taste for the antic
and anatommy, and so I don't like
to counterhact her germs. It cer-
tainly is a charming piece, and repre-
sents Apollo Belhveather, the god
of shepherds. Here is also Marcu-
ry, the god of doctors." — " Excuse
me, ma'm — of thieves and merchants,
according to mythology." — " May
be so too, Mr. Jones, but I wish you
would mind your bales and cases,
and not interrupt in this manner." —
" My case is clear." — " That's more
than your head is at this moment,
Mr. Jones, or else I am sure you
would not be so rude to a lady,"

0 %

A CHRISTMAS TARTY.

"These two youths are copied from
a cast o' Pollhux and his brother
Teaze-us, who lost his way while
running after his beloved Hariett in
a maze — the same as you may have
seen at Mountpelier Gardens, Wal-
worth. Here is also a drawing of
what is called the dying Clod-cater,
and one of Wenus of Medicine, the
goddess of health and love. This
is Plato, the god of the Tartars,
with his spouse Porcupine. But I
dare say, ladies and gentlemen, you
have got quite enough of these the-
ological subjects, so we will just have
a few minutes' peep at Ellen's port-
foil. Hers, you must know, is quite
a different style of work ; she is all
for nature, such as landskips, wiews,
and such like ; more in her mother's
taste, for I loves nature, true unci-
visticated nature, such as you see it
in this here picture of Brier-farm, in
Gloucestershire,done in black chalk."
" Chalk-farm! I protest," exclaim-
ed the forward packer of Camomile-
street; for which intrusion, he re-
ceived an ineffable look of contempt
at his ignorance of localities.

The portfolio of this young lady
contained a numerous collection of
very pretty specimens of real talent,
of which her modesty seemed to be
scarcely conscious. Among the draw-
ings- was a very interesting copy of a
print of the fantastically grand Pi-
ranesi, representing the Campo Vac-
cino in Rome, which Mrs. Waffle's
comment designated as " the capital
of Rome, one of the finest provinces
in the kingdom of Naples, where we
get the Naples soap from, and the
warmyshall for soup, if I am rightly
informed."

" This large piece, baron, repre-
sents a prospect of the city of Can-

toon in the East Indies; for there
are as many as thirteen towns of the
same name in different parts of the
world, but none so famous as this
one, because of the tea which comes
from there, and the a-la-mode beef,
which these people have learnt us
to make, and a capital dish it is when
eat quite hot.

" Allow me, gentlemen, to request
your particular attention to this co-
loured drawing of the town of Wee-
wee, on the lake of Geneva, noted all
over the world for its excellent Hol-
lands."

Mr. Philpotts observed, with some
surprise, that he was sure the Dutch
Hollands came from a place called
Schiedam, for he contrived now and
then to get some of it in a sly way;
but Mrs. Waffle explained the mat-
ter to his satisfaction* " It may be
so," she replied, " with regard to
Dutch Hollands, but the real Geneva
Hollands comes no more from Sheer-
dam, as you call it, sir, than the
Maidstone gin does. Those white
mountains in the distance, you will
please to observe, are nothing but
ice from top to bottom all the year
round ; and in a sunshiny day they
reflect the light like so many thou-
sands of looking-glasses, for which
reason they are called glaziers."

" Worth a frame, I maintain,"
added the arch Mr. Basil Jones.

" And so it is," replied Mrs. W, ;
" for Bonipart, do you know, and all
his army, went over them ice-moun-
tains in skates, when they marched
into Germany across Mount Simple-
ton. Here are a great many more
views of Ellens doing, for she does
'em in no time ; but I dare say the
company have had a sufficiency of
the pickeresque, as they call it, and

A CHRISTMAS PARTY.

a little music will be quite a relief.
Come, my clears, play one of your
duets. Begin with that sweet piece
of Don Giwanny, which you receiv-
ed for a prize this half-year."

The young ladies, after a little pre-
luding, Miss Dorothy in C and Miss
Ellen in D major, endeavoured to
delight the company with a rondo in
B flat, founded on the air Fin' clihan
dal vino, as far as I could make out
some of the first bars ; for Miss Do-
rothy, in order to increase the eclat
of the performance, took care to take
permanent possession of the pedal,
and to thump her bass most lustily,
and with a degree of assurance and
affectation generally in the inverse
ratio of the performer's abilities. The
noise was completely stunning, and
the more grating to the ear, as the
instrument was in a state of tune cor-
responding with the suburban situa-
tion of Mr. Waffle's domicile ; for I
have often made the remark, that
the open windows in the outskirts ge-
nerally emit harmonies of the most
chromatic kind, and that the discord-
ance augments progressively as you
diverge from the purlieus of Golden-
square.

The performance of these young
ladies, moreover, was quite in the
free style, according to the quantum
of notes allotted to each bar. When
there were few, they had not patience
to submit to unnecessary delays, and
when the bar was well stocked with
demisemiquavers, they took all the
time which a consciousness of their
proficiency seemed to suggest as re-
quisite for the due execution of such
crowded staves. And yet with all
this variation of time, such was the
perfection of their practice and exe-
cution, that these musical execution-
ers were seldom what is called " out,"

the slightest lagging in one being im-
mediately remedied by a sisterly de-
mur and forbearance on the part of
the other, much in the manner of
the compensation-pendulum in mo-
dern time-pieces. "Auld Lang Syne"
and " Nos Galon" were successively
given in the same style of perfection,
and enthusiastically applauded. Miss
Dorothy, lastly, was requested to fa-
vour the company with a specimen of
her vocal powers ; and after the usual
coy formalities, excuses of cold, hem
hum hem's, and rosining of lips, she
assumed the mournful countenance so
engaging in vocal efforts, and began
with stern solemnity a song of cheer-
ful text, the name of which I have
forgotten, my attention being exclu-
sively directed to the music and the
style of singing, which approached
that of a solemn hymn. Not a mus-
cle in the face moved, the lips ex-
cepted, and those scarcely formed an
exception, unless a W occurred in
the text, to which letter a goodly
mouthful of aspiration was invariably
devoted, in diametrical opposition to
mamma's more graceful system of e-
nunciation, which softened theW's in-
to Vs. There were other peculiarities
of pronunciation in Miss Dorothy's
singing greatly deviating from com-
mon parlance, all no doubt dictated
by the bon genre ; but even to my
j foreign ears it sounded singular, to
hear smoil instead of " smile," tyune
for " tune," and ka-yind for " kind."
Towards the end of this perform-
ance, a sort of pedal-bass accompa-
niment grew more and more audible
from behind; Mr. Philpotts, whether
from insusceptibility or excess of en-
joyment— for, strange enough, these
two extremes frequently produce si-
milar effects in music — having gra-
dually dropt into somnolency, and

100

A CHRISTMAS PARTY.

finally into a sound cloze, in which
latter state the reed-stop of his or-
gan of respiration intonated double
E flat, not only with great purity,
but at intervals as regular as if he
had been taught to snore by Mael-
zel's metronome ; on which occasion
Mr. Basil Jones correctly observed,
that Mr. Philpotts appeared to be
more musical when asleep than when
awake.

Mrs. Waffle, too, seemed less
charmed with musicals than she had
proved herself to be with the arts of
design. Not that she followed Mr.
Philpotts' example, but she made
noise another way ; for in the ablu-
tion of her best set of China, the
cups rattled incessantly, like the for-
ty-three bells in the Antwerp chimes;
and when that essential function was
accomplished to her satisfaction, she
felt the necessity of reorganizing the
contents of the bright Rumford, in
doing which she manifested the most
tender sympathy for the brilliant po-
lish of the steel weapon ; for she de-
voted the cambric, exclusively in-
tended for the manipulation of her
nose, to the preservation of the po-
ker, wisely weighing, no doubt, the
financial difference between a mere
atom of soap and a good pennyworth
of refined emery.

The effect of the music suffered
considerably also by the arrangement
of the card-tables ; indeed the con-
cert was altogether broken up as
soon as their preparation was com-
pleted, one table being appropri-
ated to whist, and the other to a
round game. It was by a mere for-
tunate chance that I became the part-
ner of Mrs. Waffle, who during her
first marriage had made a vow never
to play at the same table with her
husband ; and the same pacific rea-

sons, no doubt, operated a temporary
separation in the case of Mr. and
Mrs. Philpotts; that lady only, with
a Mr. Bustlethwaites, being destined
to be our adversaries.

Our hostess, in opening an elegant
embossed card-case (" the work of
Dorothy,") made a thousand apolo-
gies for the veteran appearance of
the pack, all owing to Mr. Waffle's
putting every thing ofF to the last
day, so that when he yesterday ap-
plied to the waiter at the ta-
vern, every pack was gone, which
could be no wonder at this season of
the year. Mrs. Philpotts kindly ob-
served, that if she had known it, she
would have brought a supply with
her; at the same time apologizing
for dispensing with the use of her
white kids, and requesting a smell
at my box as an antidote to that of
the cards, which " was by no means
flagrant" — " That will all be gone
in two or three deals," remarked
the comfort - dealing Mr. Bustle-
thwaites : " it's their being confined
in the case, ma'm, gives 'em that
particular flavour. You should see,
ma'm, what we play with sometimes
at the Artichoke!" — " I'm sure I
have no wish."

Mrs. Waffle being appealed to to
regulate the points, proposed " two-
pence a corner ;" which stakes being
declined by our fair adversary, on
the ground of her never playing cop-
pers, an offer of" silver three-pences"
was made, without meetingwith more
success. Mrs. Philpotts protested she
never could render herself mistress
of that complicated computation, and
went so far as to propose " sixpenny
points." To these enormous stakes
Mrs. W. had no notion of submit-
ting; " it was sheer gambling." The
ladies were thus completely at issue,

A CHRISTMAS PARTY.

101

and the rubber in all probability
would have been broken up, had
not a lucky expedient entered my
thoughts. I ventured with the ut-
most diffidence to hint to my part-
ner, that, if it were no offence, I
would with pleasure go halves in her
points. This suggestion must have
greatly raised me in her estimation,
for she looked me in the face, and
shaking her head with a winning
smile, exclaimed, " You are a gen-
tleman, baron, every inch on ye!"

Matters now went on with proper
decorum for some time, until a con-
tinued succession of good cards shew-
ed that the fickle goddess had, for
this evening, vouchsafed to take my
partner and me under her special
protection. Perhaps, too, a supe-
rior knowledge of the game on my
part (and considering the calibre of
our adversaries, this is certainly no
great boast,) may have contributed to
our signal success; for in less than
half an hour we won a bumper, to
the great mortification of our fair an-
tagonist, who desired to cut again
for partners. This expedient, how-
ever, was productive of no change.
Mrs. Waffle and I were indissepara-
ble, as she termed it, and our luck
continued so constant, that we won
another double game. This was too
much for Mrs. Philpotts to brook.
Her savoir vivre had not reached
that point of perfection which ena-
bles the outward man to feign hila-
rity while the heart is near bursting
with vexation. She declared we
knew each other's game; an asser-
tion so totally gratuitous, that Mrs.
Waffle vowed this was the first day
she had had the pleasure of setting
eyes upon the baron. Defeated in
this inuendo, Mrs. Philpotts was
pleased to lay all the blame upon the

" nasty filthy cards." — " Give me
clean christian-ttke cards," she ex-
claimed, " and I'll play against any
body."

Mr. Smith, who stood behind, and
was rather of a serious turn, depre-
cated in strong terms the application |
of such an epithet to a publication, ge-
nerally supposed to proceed from the
profanest possible source, the enemy
of all mankind.

" Then let him play them," she in-
dignantly replied; " they look as if
they had been in some such hands.
They smell of pitch and brimstone,
and not another will I touch; so much
for that !"

Mrs. Waffle must have been com-
pounded of the most neutral materi-
als, if she could have remained indif-
ferent to remarks so pointedly level-
led at her domestic arrangements.
The tokens of a storm were manifest,
the head assumed a variety of quick
gallinaceous motions, the double-
chin worked divers contortions, the
cloud was on the point of bursting,
when Mrs. P. more from disdain
than cowardice, rose from her seat,
to throw herself on the Grecian
couch (as it afterwards appeared).
At that instant Mr. Smith, not aware
of the injured fair's intentions, and
judging the couch to be in her way,
with a laudable but very unfortunate
wish to be serviceable, drew it back,
and thus was the innocent cause of
Mrs. Philpotts' effecting a momenta-
ry settlement on the carpet direct.

The oddity of this scene, altoge-
ther the affair of an instant, produced
a curious psychological phenomenon.
The condensed charge of vexation
imbibed to the bi im by my ex-partner,
and the explosion of which I expect-
ed with dread, all at once vented it-
self in a burst of half-suppressed

102

A CHRISTMAS PARTY.

laughter. Fortunately, this unfore-
seen catastrophe was productive of
no other harm than what might be
fancied to proceed from the attitude
itself; for the absence of all salient
angles and the general rotundity in
the sufferer's contour acted as a va-
luable safeguard, somewhat upon the
principle of strength in arches. The
Doric diastyle, at all events, forth-
with manifested its perfect integrity,
by the ready service it yielded in con-
veying Mrs. Philpotts out of the
room, which she did not enter aaain.
Mrs. Waffle, of course, followed, to
attend her good friend, and a few
minutes afterwards Mr. P. was call-
ed, and took Ms final leave. Their
walk home, although a small dis-
tance, must have completed their
" merry Christmas," for the rain had
not ceased since dinner.

Both card-parties being thus un-
seasonably broken up by the "strange
behaviour" of the fair deserter, the
two young ladies urgently pressed
their mamma for a dance. This re-
quest being acceded to, after some
difficulties on the score of the new
carpet, Miss Ellen proposed a qua-
drille, and kindly offered her service
in getting up la Colombe or le Papil-
lon, the figures of both of which she
was sure would easily be compre-
hended by all present : but here the
juniors were outvoted hollow by their
betters. " Nonsense with your cat-
reels!" exclaimed Mrs. Waffle; " I
hate them French dances. Can there
be any thing more hellegant than a
good English country-dance, such as

* The Grinder,' ' Maggie Lawder,'

* Drops o' Brandy,' or * Go to the
Devil and shake yourself?'" The
two young ladies were alternately to
preside at the piano-forte, but as the
battle of Toulouse had incapacitated

me from participating in the amuse-
ment, I offered to contribute my mite
towards it by taking the instrument.

" Blesh ye, baron," said Mrs. W.
" you are the pink of genteelity; if
I was a single woman, I would have
ye for a husband, for all you're an
invalid."

" Don't be so foolish, my dear,"
ejaculated my good friend, with a
half pleasant smile.

" I say it, Mr. Vaffle, and I mean
it ; and if the baron should have a
fancy by and by for either of my
girls, he need but say the word."

This began to look rather serious ;
so without further ado, I struck up
" Go to the Devil and shake your-
self," and set Mrs. Waffle's toes in
motion instead of her tongue.

But a certain fatality overhung all
the efforts of the house of the Waf-
fles to enjoy the sports of the sea-
son on this unpropitious day. Had
the corps cle ballet used a common
degree of decorum and moderation
in enacting the prescribed figures of
" Go to the Devil and shake your-
self," the pleasures of " the fantas-
tic toe" might have continued for
hours ; but it seemed as if the par-
ties conceived the name of the dance
implied particular injunctions for bo-
dily exertion. They shook theni
selves lustily, they shook the floor,
the whole house shook. The heels,
too, appeared to be infinitely more
fantastic than the toes; for although
the MS. I played from contained no
directions to such effect, the figu-
rants, especially those of the male
gender, seemed to vie with each
other in giving to every |- bar a pe-
dal ben marcato, so much the more
effective, as, with the exception of
the two young ladies, the gravitating
momentum of the rest of the per-

TIIU AFFECTIONATE WOLF.

103

formers was of the goodly citizen
average of twelve or thirteen stone
a head.

No wonder, then, if the landlord,
unfortunately next door neighbour,
justly alarmed for the permanency of
liis joists and rafters, took the trou-
ble of penning a friendly communi-
cation, reminding Mr. W. of a clause
in the covenant, which, under a pe-
nalty therein expressed and set forth,
forbade in distinct terms any dancing
whatever "on the premises aforesaid."
The billet doux in question, as if by
magic, laid the frisky ardour of the
corps de ballet, whose good wishes
for the polite letter-writer were so
abundant, various, and humane, that
if he chanced to experience the ful-
filment of but a small portion of them,
he would not fail to remember this
merry Christmas.

To drown this woful disappoint-
ment, it was agreed to walk down
forthwith to supper ; but the extreme
lateness of the hour, and the indif-
ferent health of the lady of Mr. Ba-
sil Jones, the packer of Camomile-
street, induced him to forego a taste
of the pigeon-pie and the beaux restes
of the dinner fare, and to beg a
coach might be sent for; in which
request I thought proper to join, »as
the rain still fell in torrents. But
Mrs. AV. with every mark of sincere
distress, informed us that such a lux-
ury was not to be procured for love
or money in Bethnal-Green at this
late hour. Mr. Jones, although a

tender husband, was capable of pun-
ning on this melancholy occasion, but
his spouse appeared in utter despair.
After much deliberation, my kind-
hearted friend, the broker of ton-
nage and primage, expressed some
hopes of being able to procure a
species of small craft for the passage,
inasmuch as liis baker at the corner
of the row was possessed of a cover-
ed cart and horse. Mr. Waffle put
on his hat, and soon returned with
the glad tidings, that he had charter-
ed the vessel at the enormous freight
of fifteen shillings to Camomile-street
and Panton-square.

To this rude vehicle of loaves and
gingerbread we were too happy to
consign our persons; its jolting was
not calculated to benefit our fair fel-
low-traveller, whom her spouse com-
forted by observing, that rolls must
be expected in a baker's cart. A
sudden scream on the part of Mrs.
J. excited the sympathy of a watch-
man in Church-street to stop our pro-
gress, who no doubt harboured sinis-
ter ideas of our behaviour towards the
good lady in the dark. Mr. Basil
Jones himself felt incapable of a joke
until lie ascertained the insult to have
proceeded from a black beetle, one of
the privileged tenants of this recepta-
cle of flour and bread-dust. He beg-
ged Mrs. Jones not to look so mealy
at a trifle; and on taking leave in
Camomile-street, and looking at our
garments, declared them to be dou-
ble-milled with a vengeance.

THE AFFECTIONATE WOLF.

Tin: wolf furnishes a remarkable
evidence in support of the proposi-
tion, that the disposition of carnivo-
rous animals differs according to the

Vol. III. No. XIV.

circumstances in which they are plac-
ed. In the state of nature we find
that, impelled by cruel desires, and
furnished with the requisite intclli-

104

THE AFFECTIONATK WOLF.

gence for their gratification, as well I
as the necessary weapons for glutting
their rapacity, they attack wliatever
has life, diffuse around them terror
or antipathy, and multiply their ene-
mies in a like proportion. Since,
however, they ai'e equally intelligent
with the animals on which they are
destined to prey, and which strive to
escape them by stratagem and flight,
it is necessary for them to learn to
act according to circumstances: hence
they will sometimes have recourse to
strength, at others to craft, and be at
at one time bold, at another timid.
Hence, too, it is possible to excite
gentler feelings in the most ferocious
animals, and to render them perfectly
mild, tame, and familiar, if we can
but place them in a situation in which
they are not necessitated either to
gratify their desires by violence, or to
combat enemies ; but, on the contrary,
experience only kind treatment and
enjoy perfect security.

What is here advanced as conjec-
ture is found to be confirmed by ex-
perience. There is not a ravenous
and carnivorous animal which may
not be tamed by proper treatment ;
that is to say, in which a certain de-
gree of attachment and affection for
its feeder and keeper may not be
awakened. These feelings, however,
appear by no means in an equal de-
gree in all; and in this respect, not
merely species, but also individuals
display very striking differences.

The wolf is one of the wild ani-
mals which are most susceptible of
attachment. In the Menagerie of the
Botanic Garden at Paris, there was,
in the year 1821, a wolf, which hav-
ing been brought up like a puppy,
became perfectly familiar with all
those whom he was in the habit of
seeing. He accompanied his master

wherever he went, was dull when se-
parated from him, obeyed his com-
mands, and in all these respects was
scarcely to be distinguished from the
tamest dog. A journey which his
master was obliged to take occasion-
ed him to place the animal in the Roy-
al Menagerie, where, confined in a
cage, he lost all his vivacity, and would
scarcely take any food. By degrees,
however, he recovered his health, be-
came familiar with his keeper, and
seemed to have wholly forgotten his
former attachment, when, after an
absence of eighteen months, his mas-
ter returned. At the first word he
uttered, the wolf, though he could
not see him on account of the num-
ber of persons who were before him,
yet recognised his voice, and mani-
fested his pleasure by cries and ra-
pid motions ; and no sooner was he
let loose, than he lavished on his old
friend the tenderest caresses, just as
the most faithful dog would do after
a separation of a few days.

A second separation was attended
with similar manifestations of pro-
found grief, which, however, wore
off again in time. Three years pass-
ed, and the wolf lived cheerful and
content with a dog which was given
him for a playfellow. At the expi-
ration of this period, which was cer-
tainly sufficient to cause even the
most faithful dog to forget his mas-
ter, the owner of the wolf returned.
It was dark, and the place was locked
up, so that the animal could not see
him : but the voice of his beloved
master was not yet banished from his
memory ; as soon as he heard it he
knew it again, and answered his call
by a cry denoting impatience, which
increased till the removal of the ob-
stacles that parted them. The ani-
mal then ran up, put his two fore-

ACCOUNT OF SAMUEL FANCOUKT.

105

paws on the shoulders of his long-lost
friend, and licked his whole face with
his tongue, snarling at the keepers,
to whom he had shortly before been
as gentle as possible, whenever any
of them approached.

For this exquisite delight, to the
full expression of which sufficient
time could not be allowed, the poor
creature was destined to pay dearly.
Another separation was requisite, and
from that moment the wolf became
melancholy and immoveable. He re-
fused his food, pined away, and his
hair stood up, as it usually does in
animals that are in ill health: in a
week he was so altered as not to be
known, and for a long time it was
apprehended he could not recover.
His health nevertheless began to
improve; he again grew fat and his
coat sleek; admitted his keepers, but
would not take caresses froni any

other persons, at whom he would
growl and snarl in return.

These facts, which are far from be-
ing too highly coloured, are at vari-
ance with the usual statements re-
specting the disposition of the wolf:
but, to be sure, we are not acquainted
with this animal, excepting from the
individuals of the species that roam
in the forests. In these, living as
they do amidst enemies and dangers,
no other feelings than fear, mistrust,
and hatred, can be developed; and
experience has shewn, that even dogs,
brought up under similar circum-
stances, are indeed not quite, but
nearly as wild, and to the full as
cruel. This proves, that to judge of
the disposition of any animal, it ought
to be observed under all the circum-
stances by which the qualities com-
posing it can be called forth and de-
veloped.

ACCOUNT OF SAMUEL FANCOURT, THE FOUNDER OF
THE FIRST CIRCULATING LIBRARY.

TO THE EDITOR.

Sin,

The formation of circulating-
libraries has conferred such an obli-
gation on the reading public, that it
will perhaps thank an admirer of
your work for affording them some
particulars of the life of one who was
the author and origin of so innocent
and profitable a scheme.

J. C.

Wymondium, Norfolk.

SAMUEL FANCOUHT,

a native of the west of England, was
at the beginning of the last century
pastor of a congregation of Protest-
ant Dissenters in Salisbury, where
he had a number of hearers for near

twenty years. Professing a creed
very different from the opinions of
Calvin, as appears by his numerous
publications, he incurred the displea-
sure of persons of that persuasion,
and a controversy arose, in which
clergymen of the Establishment and
Dissesrters had an equal share. It
turned on the divine prescience, the
freedom of the human will, the great-
ness of the divine love, and the doc-
trine of reprobation..

Driven from a comfortable settle-
ment to the great metropolis, where
he acquired no new one as a teacher,
Mr. Fancourt, about 1740 or 1745,
established the first circulating libra-
ry for gentlemen and ladies, at a sub-
P 2

106

DANGEROUS SPECIES OF NETTLE IN THR EAST INDIES.

scription of a guinea a year for read-
ing; but, in 1748, he extended it to !
a guinea in all, for the purchase of a '
better library, half to be paid at the
time of subscribing, the other half |
at the delivery of a new catalogue,
then in the press, and twelve-pence
a quarter besides, to begin from Mi-
chaelmas 1754, to the librarian.
Subscriptions were to be paid with-
out further charge to the proprietors,
but only from the time of subscribing;
out of which quarterly payments were
to be deducted the rent of the rooms
to receive the books and to accom-
modate subscribers ; a salary to the
librarian, to keep an open account
and to circulate the books ; a stock
to buy new books, and duplicates as
there was occasion ; the expense of
providing catalogues, and drawing up
writings for settling the trust. This
trust was to be vested in twelve or
thirteen persons chosen by ballot out
of the body of proprietors, and the
proposer, Mr. Fancourt himself, was
to be the first librarian, and to con-
tinue so as long as he discharged his
office with diligence and fidelity.
Every single subscription entitled the
subscriber to one book and one
pamphlet at a time, to be changed
ad libitum for others, and kept ad U-
bitwnifnot wanted by other subscrib-
ers. Mr. Fancourt advertised him-
self also in these proposals as a teach-
er of Latin, which he eno;ao-ed to en-
able pupils to read, write, and speak
with fluency in a year or less; or

twelve guineas a year, one guinea a
month, or twelve-pence an hour, al-
lowing five or six hours in a week.

Not to trace the poor librarian
through every shifting of his quar-
ters, he fixed at last at the corner of
one of the streets in the Strand,
where, encumbered with a helpless
and sick wife, turned out of fashion
and outplanned by a variety of imi-
tators, and entangled with a variety
of schemes, not one of which could
extricate him from perplexities, this
poor man, who may be said to have
first circulated knowledge among us,
sunk under a load of debt, unmerited
reproach, and a failure of his facul-
ties, brought on by the decay of age
and precipitated by misfortunes. His
library became the property of cre-
ditors, and he retired in humble po-
verty to Hoxton-square, where some
of his brethren relieved his necessi-
ties till the close of his life, in his
ninetieth year, June 8, 1768. As a
preacher, though neither what is now
called popular, nor pastor of a Lon-
don congregation, he was occasion-
ally called upon to fill up vacancies,
and is said to have acquitted himself
with a considerable degree of manly
eloquence. He published three or
four occasional sermons, besides his
tracts against Calvinistical principles,
which were answered by Messrs.
Morgan, Norman, Bliss, Millar, and
Eliot, all, or mostly, Dissenting mi-
nisters, and defended in various
pamphlets by the author.

DANGEROUS SPECIES OF NETTLE IN THE EAST INDIES.

{Extract of a Letter from a French Naturalist.)

For these two months past I have
been in Bengal, and now reside in
the Botanic Gardenof the East India
Company, where the treasures of

Flora are displayed in the greatest
profusion. Situated on the bank of
the Ganges, and possessing a most
fertile soil, this garden is upwards of

DANGEROUS SPECIES OF NETTLE IN THE EAST INDIES.

107

two miles in circumference. The in-
spector, Dr. Wallich, is furnished
with all the resources requisite for
enriching the garden, and he em-
ploys them to the best purpose.
There are no fewer than three hun-
dred and forty-five persons belonging
to the establishment, in and out of
this garden. In all parts of India
Dr. Wallich has collectors, who for-
ward to him seeds, as well as living
and dried plants. He has a very
fine library. Fourteen draughtsmen
are constantly and exclusively em-
ployed in adding to the collection of
coloured drawings of plants, which,
for magnitude and beauty, is certain-
ly without a rival. These drawings
are of a large size, and very highly
finished. Dr. Wallich is at present
engaged upon a continuation of Rox-
burgh's Flora of the East Indies; a
magnificent work, which will be print-
ed at the missionary press at Seram-
pore.

A few days since I gained, not
without great pain and some danger,
a piece of experience in regard to
vegetable physiology, an account of
which will probably interest you. —
Among all the species of nettles pre-
viously examined, that described by
Roxburgh by the name of Uriica
crenulata, or dentated nettle, is in-
contestably the most poisonous : it is
to be found in the Botanic Garden
of Calcutta, whither it was brought
from Chittagong, in the eastern part
of Bengal. It is a handsome plant,
four or five feet high, with alternate,
large, pointed leaves, of a beautiful
green. The female flowers (which
alone I saw, and which only Rox-
burgh also examined,) are small, whit-
ish, and attached to forked ears,
springing from the corners of the
leaves. The few small hairs on the

surface of the leaves and round the
flower-stalk are scarcely perceptible.
As the plant was in blossom, I thought
to pick some specimens for my col-
lection, and laid hold of it without
any particular precaution, because I
had no mistrust. Roxburgh briefly
remarks in his description, that the
plant stings, and that the pain which
it occasions lasts a day or two. The
back of the first three fingers of my
left hand was lightly brushed by a
leaf of the nettle : at first I felt only
a slight pricking, of which I took no
notice. It was then seven in the
morning. The pain gradually in-
creased, and in an hour had become
almost intolerable ; it felt as if a red-
hot iron was drawn backward and
forward across my fingers : but what
was extraordinary, neither swelling,
blister, nor even simple inflammation,
supervened. The pain rapidly ex-
tended up the arm, as high as the
arm-pit. I was then seized with fre-
quent sneezing and a running at the
nose, as in a violent cold. About
noon I felt a painful contraction at
the back part of the lower jaw, which
excited in me some apprehension of
a locked jaw. I went to bed, in hopes
of finding relief from repose ; but
the painlasted almost the whole night
without intermission, and the con-
traction of the jaw only had ceased
by seven or eight in the evening.
The next morning, the pain had
greatly abated, so that I was able to
get some sleep. For the two suc-
ceeding days the pain continued, but
in a less degree, and whenever I dip-
ped my hand in water it immediately
increased. It kept, however, upon
the whole gradually diminishing, but
it was the ninth day before it com-
pletely left me.

From these symptoms the virulence

108

TO-MOIlllOW.

of the poison may be inferred. The
hairs are so fine as to be scarcely
discernible ; and such effects cannot
possibly be attributed to a merely
mechanical excitement, from their
having penetrated beneath the epi-
dermis.

When I related the circumstance
to Dr. Wallich, he recollected that
about a year ago one of his garden-
ers was stung by the same nettle,
and had complained of intolerable
pain, which had for a considerable
time incapacitated him for work.
The doctor then supposed that the
man represented the matter a great
deal worse than he had occasion to
do, and as nothing was to be seen
externally, he paid no farther atten-
tion to the case. He now sent for
this gardener, and from his state-
ment it appeared, that one of his
comrades had struck him on both
shoulders, but particularly on the low-
er part of the left arm, with a leaf
of the Urtica crenulata ; after which
he was presently seized with the most
furious pain, which lasted two days
with such violence, that he thought

every moment would be his last. The
sneezing, the running at the nose,
and the contraction of the lower jaw
were equally violent, and lasted se-
veral days. Whenever the injured
parts were wetted with water, he felt,
according to his own expression, as
if boiling oil was poured upon them :
but yet neither swelling, inflamma-
tion, nor fever manifested itself. It
was a fortnight before the pain en-
tirely left him.

Another very poisonous species of
nettle, the Urtica stimulants, grows
in Java: its effects are not so severe
as those of the Urtica crenulata, but
they so far resemble them, that the
pain is aggravated by the application
of water. Another non-descript spe-
cies, which I have met with on the
hills of the Island of Timor, is called
Daoun Satan (Devil's leaf) by the
natives, who are exceedingly afraid
of it. I was assured that the suffer-
ings occasioned by its sting last a
whole year, and may even prove fa-
tal. I had not myself an opportu-
nity of making any observations on
the subject.

TO-MORROW

" Never lives,

We arc perpetually talking of to-
morrow, and yet we are all unac-
quainted with it, except in the way
of procrastination or anticipation;
for as my motto says, to-morrow
" never lives, but never dies." Yet
the more serious consequences of the
so-much-talked-of to-morrow arise
from the too common evil of procras-
tination, which is proverbially and
and properly called " the thief of
time." We are all too prone to de-
lay till the morrow what may be
done to day; but the inspired writer

but never dies."

of the Book of Proverbs has said,
""Boast not thyself of to-morrow, for
thou knowest not what a day may
bring forth." Indeed we do not.
The veriest trifle is often of import-
ance enough to overthrow our fond-
est hopes and our wisest plans; every
thing is changing around us, gradu-
ally, and often imperceptibly, but
surely. As well might we expect
the roses of spring to shed their odours
on the cold and desolating blasts of
winter, or the rich and ripe fruits of
summer to hang on their branches

TO-MOlUtOW.

109

throughout the year, as human life '
and prosperity to become stationary.
The infliction of evil is frequently
too sudden for the power or art of
man to avert. There needs no thun-
der from heaven, no convulsion upon
earth, to foretel a man's total ruin.
He neglects to-day to insure his pro-
perty; in the night, some accidental
spark that has fallen bursts into a
flame, and his whole stock of goods
or furniture is destroyed, and per-
haps the savings of years buried with
them in one common ruin before an-
other sun arises, when a moment's
proper attention might have saved
to him the greater part of his loss.
The same observation applies to pro-
perty on shipboard.

Another man neglects to make his
will; he means to do it to-morrow,
and to provide for many who are
near and dear to him, but who are
not entitled to his property as heirs
at law. Sudden death seizes him, and
those his heart yearned to succour
are left destitute; while his legal
heirs, who probably did not want it,
riot luxuriously on what he has left.

A thousand similar instances might
be named, all tending to shew the
necessity there is for man to avail
himself of to-day ; and yet it seems
almost a part of our nature to look
to futurity — I speak now of this life
only — for happiness :
11 Man never is, but always to be blest."
He builds and collects together dur-
ing a long and weary life, always
looking through the vista of his years
to a happy repose at last in some
favourite cottage or house, which he
has spent many years and many hun-
dreds, perhaps thousands, in adorn-
ing. Old age creeps upon him ; his
faculties begin to forsake him one
by one : still he goes on ; not yet is

the happy morrow in view; one more
year and one more thousand lead
him on, till he drops into his grave,
and leaves all that he has been toil-
ing for to strangers; thus adding one
more proof to the number that have
been given before, that

" All men tbink all men mortal but them-
selves."

Still although every man should
do what he has to do to-day, and
leave nothing that he can possibly
avoid till the treacherous to-morrow;
and though he would never boast
himself of his certainty of doing such
and such things when it arrives ; nei-
ther should he grieve, and think it
impossible, that because what he
earnestly, and perhaps properly, wish-
es for, does not arrive at the very
moment he expected, that the happy
moment is never to come which will
give it to his longing heart. It may,
it will yet be his, if he be always
anxious to improve to-day, and not
idly leave his expectations to chance
and to-morrow.

The heart which is loaded and
overwhelmed with an accumulation
of sorrows is apt to despair, and
think that its present grief will never
experience a change, but that every
coming day will be as full of wretch-
edness and gloom as those that have
already passed in misery. This is
not right: let such look forward
with hope and confidence to an Al-
mighty Protector, who can. and may,
lighten their afflictions ; for let them
remember, that

" the darkest night, the loncrest day,

Wait till to-morrow, will have pass'd away."

Hope, man's best companion, whe-
ther it be of earth or heaven, should
always be predominant in his mind ;
he should trust to something stronger
than his own heart for protection;

110 ANECDOTES, &C. HISTORICAL, L1TKRAUY, AND PERSONAL.

and, like the father whose terrors '
were awakened by a frightful storm
in the darkness of midnight, pour
forth his feelings in language some-
thing like the following :

" Terror invades my hour of rest,
And dark imaginings unblest:
The fitful tempest (ills the air,
And howls ail emblem of despair.
Wild round my roof the wind is driv'n,
And seems the angry voice of heav'n:

The casements tremble at the blast,

As the tremendous whirlwind past.

Sleep visits not my aching head,

And safety seems not in my bed !

The viewless pow'r that roars around,

May hurl my dwelling to the ground ;

May bury in its ruins wide

A father and a father's pride.

But heav'n is good, I will not fear —

Its high protection still is near.

Morning shall come with brilliant beam,

And chase mynight-form'd troublous dream."

J. M. Lacey.

ANECDOTES, &c.
HISTORICAL, LITERARY, AND PERSONAL.

THE PATRON OF THE LAWYERS.

The Repository for August last
contained a letter from his Satanic
Majesty, which is considered ci'edit-
ahle to the powers of his quill. The
following anecdote shews that a large
and redoubtable body of the inhabit-
ants of Great Britain are under his
protection* St. Evona, a lawyer of
Brittany, went to Rome to entreat
the pope to give the lawyers a pa-
tron. The pope replied he knew
of no saint not already disposed of
to other professions. His holiness
proposed, however, to St. Evona,
that he should go blindfolded round
the church of San Giovanni de La-
terano, and after saying a certain num-
ber of Ave Marias, the first saint he
laid hold of should be his patron.
This the good old persevering law-
yer undertook, and after repeating
his Ave Marias, the first stop was
at the altar of St. Michael, where, in-
stead of laying hold of the saint, he
unfortunately grasped the devil un-
der the saint's feet, crying out, " This
is our saint, let him be our patron!1'

WINTER GARB OF CHARLEMAGNE.

The winter dress of Charlemagne
is thus described by his supposed
son-in-law, Eginhard : A doublet of

otter-skins over a cloth tunic, em-
broidered with silk. On his shoul-
ders a blue cloak, of inferior cloth ;
and for stockings, bands of different
colours crossed over each other. The
ancient Tuscan costume much resem-
bled this, and is nearly allied to the
garb of the Scotch Highlanders.
There can be little doubt that the
cloth worn by Charlemagne was ma-
nufactured by his daughters, as he
kept them most strictly to spinning
wool, and weaving the yarn into webs
for his personal use. His figure in
strength and stature surpassed all
the men of his era, and his mind was
capacious beyond all the cotemporary
warriors or monarchs. We may add,
that his lofty spirit accorded with the
magnitude of his external form.

THE TEMPLE OF MECCA.

This structure is known to Mus-
sulmans by the name of El Haram,
or Excellence. It is composed of
the house of God, or Kaaba; the
well, Bir Zemmen; the Cobba, or
place of Abraham ; the places of four
orthodox rites ; two Cobbas, or tem-
ples; an arch, called Bab-es-selem;
the wooden staircase which leads to
the saloon of the house of God; an
immense court, surrounded by a tri-

ANECDOTES, &C. HISTORICAL, LITEItAUY, AND PERSONAL. 1 1 1

pie row of arches ; two small courts,
surrounded with elegant piazzas;
nineteen doors ; seven towers or mi-
narets, five of which are joined to
the edifice, and the others are placed
between houses out of the inclosure.
The Kaaba, Beit Allah, or the house
of God, is a quadrilateral tower, the
sides and angles of which are unequal ;
so that its plan forms a true trape-
zium. The size of the edifice, and
the black cloth which covers it, make
this irregularity disappear, and give
it the figure of a perfect square.

The black stone, Hhajera-el-as-
souad, or heavenly stone, is raised
forty-two inches above the surface,
and is bordered all around with a
large plate of silver, about a foot
broad. The part of the stone that
is not covered by the silver at the
angle is almost a semicircle. The
Turks believe this miraculous stone
was a transparent hyacinth, brought
from heaven to Abraham by the an-
gel Gabriel, as a pledge of his divini-
ty ; but being touched by a faithless
woman, became black and opaque.
In fact, it is a fragment of volcanic
basalts, sprinkled throughout its sur-
face with pointed crystals, and va-
ried with red feldspar, upon a black
ground like coal, except one of its
protuberances, which is a little red-
dish.

CHINESE CANNIUALS.

An ancient manuscript in the Roy-
al Library at Paris gives an ac-
count of Arabian navigation to Chi-
na in the 9th and 10th centuries.
The author affirms, that in times of
scarcity the Chinese subsisted upon
human flesh. They say it was un-
safe to go out of doors at night, for
fear of being taken and killed for
food. .

Vol. III. No. XIV.

THE SELF-INVITED GUEST.

The late Duchess of G. was fre-
quently annoyed by the intrusions
of a forward young man, whose con-
duct and manners she considered
pernicious to her son, then of strip-
ling age; but the sycophant had so
many different ways of recommending
himself to the young nobleman, that
he met with every encouragement
from that quarter, and either did not
or would not perceive her grace's dis-
approbation. A ludicrous expedient
of the lady's compelled the intruder
to take his folly and presumption to
another board.

Three young noblemen and this
person were going out to ride, and
the duchess followed them to the
lower lobby, charging them to re-
mind the grooms to pick the horses'
teeth before they were led to water

after coursing. Mr. construed

this injunction literally, and when he
dismounted, repeated it to the ser-
vant who took his hunter. The man

stared — Mr. called aloud to the

young lords to refresh their memo-
ries on the subject — uncontroulable
laughter from their lordships, which
soon infected the attendants, could

not be withstood. Mr. departed ,

and for ever.

CONDESCENSION OF GENIUS.

Garrick, having disappeared from

a large company, one of the party

I went in quest of him, and found the

I actor, who fixed the admiring atten-

I tion of thousands, occupied in amus-

I ing a negro-boy, by mimicking the

I manner and gabble of a turkey-cock.

j Theboy,almost convulsed with laugh-

I ter, recovered a little to exclaim,

" O Massa Garrick ! you kill me,

i Massa Garrick!"

\\% ANECDOTES, &C. HISTORICAL, LITERARY, AND I'F.HSONAL.

ALFIERI.

Alfieri, celebrated as a poet, and
as the friend of the Countess of Al-
bany, was subject to fits of high-
wrought feeling, and abstraction and
melancholy. His temper for the day
much depended upon his favourite
horse. He fed this animal with his
own hands, and saw him led out at
an early hour. If the equine favour-
ite chanced to neigh, or replied to
his caresses with sympathetic plea-
sure, Alfieri passed the ensuing
hours with a brightened spirit ; but
his sure dejection followed the insen-
sibility of the horse. He often sought
relief from mental oppression, by sit-
ting in the churches listening to the
solemn chaunt of the monks.

A POISSARDE SILENCED.

Lively as the tropes and figures of
Billingsgate eloquence may appear to
an English ear, they are faint com-
pared to the flowers of rhetoric with
which the Parisian poissardes enrich
their harangues. Heaven help the
unlucky wight who ventures near
one of them, after he has offered her
a single sou less than she demands
for her fish ! A smart slap on the
chops with the piece that he has un-
derrated is the least he can expect
to meet with. Nevertheless, an Eng-
lishman lately laid a wager that he
would silence one of these harpies;
and he succeeded in the following
manner : He went with the friend
whom he had laid the wager with, to
the Jtalle, and on being told the price
of a piece of salmon, coolly said,
" You ask too much for stinking fish."
This was enough to make the vender
let fly a volley of abuse, which lasted
as long as her breath served her.
The gentleman stood looking at her
with the most provoking indifference ;

and when she stopped for a moment
to recruit her spirits for a fresh at-
tack, he turned round to his friend,
saying, " Did yoit hear the old Tisi-
phone?" The woman stared at a
name so totally unintelligible to her :
" What did he call me?" said she in
a whisper to her neighbour at the
next stall. — " I am sure, replied the
other, " I don't know; I never heard
the name before." — " Nor I," replied
his antagonist, " and it must be a bad
name indeed when neither you nor
I know it." The gentleman walked
off in triumph with his friend, who
was forced to own that the wager was
fairly won.

SINGULAR INSTANCE OF INSANITY.

When the royal palace at Choisy-
le-Roi was pulled down by the mob
during the French revolution, they
left two pavilions, which formerly
served as porters' lodges, standing.
These were declared national pro-
perty, and sold for a trifle. The
present owner of them is a woman of
an avaricious temper, who, at the
time of the present king's restoration,
conceived that she should be depriv-
ed of her purchase; and the idea
turned her brain. A short time prov-
ed the fallacy of her fear, but she has
never recovered her senses. She
lives in one of the pavilions, and
whenever she hears a knock at the
door, she runs to the window, ex-
claiming, " You shan't have it: I
have bought it and paid for it, and I
will die before I will give it up." She
goes on in this manner till she has
worked herself into a paroxysm of
rage. The idea seems to haunt her
imagination continually, for whenever
she sees a stranger approach, she
concludes he is come to dispossess
her.

ANECDOTES, &C. HISTORICAL, LITERARY, AND PERSONAL.

its

INGENIOUS DEDUCTION.

The Zuyder Zee covers a large
portion of ancient West Frieseland.
Tradition relates that a proprietor of
land in the tract thus inundated owed
his life and extrication from ruin to
his acute reasoning on the phenome-
non of a herring being found in the
bucket with which his servant-maid
drew water from the Zuyder Zee,
then an inland lake. He conjectured
from this circumstance, that there
must be a subterraneous communica-
tion between that lake and the ocean,
which was likely to be soon enlarged.
He sold his land without delay, and
a few days after he had removed all
his effects, the sea deluged his late
property, and the entire tract has
ever since been a waste of waters.

PRESENCE OF MIND IN A FEMALE
EMIGRANT.

In the back settlements of Ameri-
ca a poor emigrant was obliged to
leave his family, and to take a jour-
ney of five days, to make purchases
of utensils for husbandry, and to
see some persons lately arrived from
the mother country. On the night
when he was expected to return, two
wandering savages, having discovered
that the woman and her five children
were unprotected, came to the door
of her cabin and demanded admit-
tance. Fortunately she had been in
the habit of very carefully securing
her door and windows: she replied
she was ill and unable to rise to open
her dwelling, or to offer them hospi-
tality; and her children were too
young and weak to draw the bolt.
They said in return that they would
come down the chimney, for they
must have some brandy, which they
were sure she could give them. She
immediately bethought herself of

making a great smeke with the fea-
thers in her bolster, and in that man-
ner kept out her tormentors till her
husband and three of his countrymen
arrived, when the Indians, seeing the
white men armed with muskets, im-
mediately decamped.

FASHIONS.

Charles VII. of France is said to
have introduced long coats, to hide
his ill-shaped legs.

Shoes with very long points, full
two feet in length, were invented by
Henry Plantagenet, Duke of Anjou,
to conceal a very large excrescence
on one of his feet. The fashion of
long-pointed shoes led to the extra-
vagance of having the points fasten-
ed to the knees with chains of silver
or gold.

When Francis I. was obliged to
wear his hair very short, on account
of a wound in his head, it became a
prevailing fashion at court; and full-
bottomed wigs were contrived to
conceal a deformity in the shoulders
of the Dauphin of France.

Queen Isabella of Bavaria, con-
spicuous for gallantry as for the fair-
ness of her complexion, first began
to leave the neck and part of the
shoulders uncovered. -

In the reign of Richard II. Sir
John Arundel had for each week a
different suit of gold tissue. Eliza-
beth of France, queen to Philip II.
of Spain, never wore a gown twice,
but had a new robe for every day.

In the reign of Henry III. of
France, the gentlemen could not ex-
ist without comfits. When the Duke
of Guise was killed at Blois, he was
found with a comfit-box in his hand.

Let the declaimers against modern
profusion, versatile modes, and exces-
sive refinement of taste, ponder these
Q 2

114

MUSICAL REVIEW.

facts. How far more respectable are
the manly habits of our own times!
The general diffusion of knowledge
has taught all ranks their appropri-
ate character; and none but a cynic
will deny, that, upon the whole, those
lessons are practically efficacious.
What an encouragement to both
sexes to cultivate their higher facul-
ties!

GEORGE FARQUHAR.

The sufferings of those whose
works have set the table in a roar
are, alas ! too well known ! Few of
these geniuses made a more lament-
able end than the gay gallant Far-
quhar, the author of " The Re-
cruiting Officer," " Beaux Strata-
gem," &c. &c. A soldier and a gen-
tleman, he died of a broken heart
at the early age of thirty, when the
following letter to Mr. Wilks was
found among his papers :

" Dear Bob, — I have not any thing
to leave thee to perpetuate my me-
mory but two helpless girls: look up-
on them sometimes, and think of him
who was to the last moment of his
life thine,

" George Farquhar."

Wilks, when the girls became of
age, put them out in the world in
business, and procured a benefit for
each of them, to supply the necessa-
ry resources. Farquhar's wife, to
whom he was an indulgent husband,
notwithstanding she had deceived
him by representing herself a woman
of large fortune, died in the utmost
indigence. One of his daughters
was married to an inferior tradesman,
and died soon after. The other, in
1764, was living in poverty, without
any knowledge of refinement in sen-
timent or expenses. She seemed to
take no pride in her father's fame,
and was in every respect fitted to rjer
humble situation,

MUSICAL REVIEW.

piano-fprte.
ft The Foresters" a characteristic
Divertimento for the Piano-forte
and Flute (ad lib.) in which is
arranged Henri/ R. Bishop's cele-
brated Glee, " Foresters, sound
the cheerful hor?i" dedicated to
John Fullerton, Esq. by T. A.
Rawlings. Pr. 4s. — (Goulding and
Co.)

Besides an allegretto of consider-
able extent founded on Mr. Bishop's
above-mentioned glee, this diverti-
mento comprises two or three further
movements of an analogous charac-
ter, and all in the same key (E b ) ;
viz. " Daybreak," " Le Reveil," &c.
In all these Mr. R. has displayed a
sprightly and fertile vein of imagina-

tion, and a chasteness of harmonic
treatment, which will ensure the
amateur's liking. The whole pro-
ceeds with spirit and glee amidst a
constant variety of select ideas, and
the piece is not above the study of a
moderate proficient on the instru-
ment.

A First Dramatic Divertimento from
favourite Airs by Rossini, arrang-
ed for the Piano-forte by D. Bru-
guier. Pr. 2s. — (Chappell and,
Co.)
A Second Ditto, by Ditto. Pr. 2s.
A Third Ditto, by Ditto. Pr.2s.Gd.
A Fourth Ditto, by Ditto. Pr. 2s. 6d .
A Fifth Ditto, by Ditto. Pr. 2s. 6d.
The pieces comprised in these
books are chiefly taken from " II

MUSICAL REVIEW.

11.;

- i\:

Barbiere di Seviglia" and " Tancre-
di," and are as follows :

In No. I. " Ecco ridente il cielo."

— 2. " Tu che i miseri," &c.

C " Coutro un cuor che accende

— 3. < Araore."

( " 11 veochiotto cerca moglie."
A 5 " E tu quando tornerai."
\ " Ditanti palpiti."
Traditriee."
Amori sceedete. "

This selection is satisfactory. The
pieces are exhibited nearly in their
complete state, without important al-
terations or additions; and their adap-
tation to the piano-forte has been
very successfully accomplished; in-
asmuch as the essential features of
the compositions have been preserved,
without subjecting the performer to
much executive labour. The mere
instrumental amateur will therefore
be pleased with the additional op-
portunity here afforded him by Mr.
B. of enlarging his acquaintance with
the works of Rossini. But the tempo
qught absolutely to have been marked
by the metronome. In dramatic mu-
sic, more than in any other, it is ten
to one that the player should seize
the proper time of his own accord.
The Overture to " Maid Marian"
composed by H. R. Bishop, ar-
ranged as a Duet for the Harp
find Piano-forte, by D. Bruguier.
Pr. 5s. — (Goulding and Co.)
Our opinion of this overture has
been expressed on a former occasion.
It is a close imitation of Rossini's
manner, but its spirited and full har-
monic construction has rendered it a
favourite at Covent-Garden Theatre.
Mr. B.'s arrangement is calculated
to exhibit the composition to advan
tage. There are also a flute and vi
oloncello part, ad libitum.

PIANO-FORTE VARIATIONS.

Second Divertimento ticozzese for

the Piano-forte, in which is intro-
duced the favourite Air of " Do-
nald," composed, and dedicated
to Miss Forrester, by G. Kiall-
mark. Pr. 3s. — (Chappell and Co.)
As this divertimento consists of a
theme with variations, preceded by
an appropriate introductory move-
ment, we have thought proper to in-
clude it in that class of compositions.
The variations, four or five in num-
ber, are conceived with taste and de-
cided variety of style ; and they are
carefully written, so as to exhibit
the player's powers very advantage-
ously, without exposing them to de-
terring intricacies ; a feature of re-
commendation which attends most of
Mr. Kiallmark's productions.
Variations, a Theme in the Opera
" Jean de Paris," with a Grand
Introduction by J. May seder, ar-
ranged for the Piano-forte solo,
by Gelinek. Pr. 3s. — (Boosey and
Co. Holies-street.)
Variations being the delight of the
Abb6 Gelinek, he is not content with
the many hundreds he has devised
himself upon themes innumerable,
but he adapts the variations written
by others, persuaded no doubt that
there cannot be too much of a good
thing. In the present case the re-
verend composer has fallen upon a
good thing, and has made a good
thing of it. They are Mayseder's
variations for the violin (a composi-
tion of first-rate merit) on a theme
in Jean de Paris. The arrangement
required no common talents and ex-
ertions to adapt that which suits the
violin to the powers and character of
the piano-forte, and the success of
the undertaking is indisputable : but
in a work of this description passages
must naturally be expected which
are not for the sphere of a piano-

116

MUSICAL RKV1KW.

ORGAN.

Three Voluntaries for the Organ or
Piano-forte, composed hy Thomas
Adams, Organist of St. Paul's,
Deptford. Book I. Pr. 4s.—
(Hodsoll, High-Holborn.)
We feel great pleasure in express-
ing our warmest approbation of this
publication. It is one of those that
do not present themselves every day;
that obviously proclaim the care and
laudable effort of the author; and
one of those, perhaps, that reward
him more with the meed of well-
earned fame, than with pecuniary
profit. In these voluntaries we not
only recognise the complete mastery
of the instrument, which has long es-
tablished Mr. A.'s reputation as an
organ-player, but find ample evidence
of firm and matured theoretical sci-

forte-player of limited proficiency. |
In proper hands the variations will i
yield a rare treat ; they are replete
with traits of originality and refined
taste, and with melodic combinations
of singular gracefulness. The in-
troduction, too, is written in a mas-
terly style.

" Voice lioyale" composed and ar-
ranged with Variations for the
Piano-forte or Harp, by J. Monro.
Pr. 2s.— (Monro and May, Hol-
born-Bars.)

A pretty lightsome dance of three
successive parts, upon which Mr. M.
has constructed five variations, which,
if they are not in the grand genre
of Mr. Mayseder's above-mentioned
labour, possess at all events the me-
rit of being written in a neat, pleas-
ing, and correct style, of being ac-
cessible to a large majority of per-
formers, and of bidding fair to yield
them entertainment, blended with
some good practical exercise.

ence, and of distinguished eminence
in the more intricate branches of
composition. There are two fugues
constructed with consummate art,
and in the best style, which may
safely challenge competition in this
country. Indeed the whole of the
work shews a degree of contrapuntal
skill and facility, in the acquisition of
the possessor of which the congre-
gation of Deptford may take the
greater pride, as these qualifications
are not often met with at the present
day in an equal degree of perfection;
particularly when, as in Mr. A.'s case,
they are blended with a chasteness
of taste and feeling, which, at the
same time, knows how to appreciate
the charms of good melody.

HARP.

The favourite Airs in the Grand
Ballet of " Alfred le Grand" ar-
ranged for the Harp, with an Ac-
companiment for the Flute, and
dedicated to Lady Paulet, by N.
Ch. Bochsa. Book I. Pr. 4s.—
(Chappell and Co.)
The airs in this ballet, the compo-
sition of which is from the pen of
Count Gallenberg, are not all ori-
ginal; but those which have been,
partially at least, drawn from other
sources, justify the author's choice
by their characteristic suitableness
for the action of the pantomime.
Hence the music met with a most fa-
vourable reception at the King's
Theatre, where, in point of scenery,
dresses, and decorations, nothing was
spared to gain the applause which
the ballet subsequently commanded
from the audience. The music is
throughout very interesting ; but what
pleased us most, was the grand pro-
cessional march in the second act,
which we find in p. 9 of this book.

MUSICAL RKVIEW.

11?

Mr. Bochsa's arrangement, as far as
it goes, is good, and not of very dif-
ficult execution.

Brilliant Duet for the Harp and Pi-
ano-forte on the favourite Themes
in " Clari, or the Maid of Milan,"
with Variations on the admired
Air, " Home, sweet home," com-
posed, and dedicated to the Right
Hon. the Ladies Paulet, by N.
Ch. Bochsa. Pr. 6s. — (Goulding
and Co.)

Both instruments are fully employ-
ed concertante in this arrangement ;
and their respective tasks, especially
that of the harp, are not calculated
for performers of mediocre profici-
ency. The book contains four or
five of the pieces of the opera, in
the adaptation of which Mr. B. has
not spared either care or talent. The
duet is, as the title states, full of ef-
fect and brilliancy. There are two
variations upon the theme, " Home,
sweet home :" one for the harp, the
other for the piano-forte ; both very
fine.

VOCAL.

" Vocal Anthology, or the Flowers
of Song," being a Selection of the
most beautiful and esteemed vocal
Music of all Europe, with English
Words. Part VIII. Pr. (is.—
(Gale, Bruton- street, Bond-street.)
Contents: A canzonet of Jackson;
one of Haydn's; two short Scotch
tunes ; Rossini's beautiful quartett,
" Mi manca la voce," in Most in
Egitto ; two very pretty little Ger-
man songs by Maurer, and an ori-
ginal song by Mr. Cather. The first
half of this selection will probably
be less prized than the remainder,
owing to the airs being familiar to
most amateurs. Rossini's " Mi manca
la voce" can hardly be termed a

canon (as it is styled in this book).
Each of the four voices, it is true,
takes up the same subject successive-
ly ; but the moment one voice seizes
the melody, the companion or com-
panions perform mere accompani-
ment, the chords being gradually
filled up, and amplifications intro-
duced in the accompaniment as the
singers increase in number. None
of the parts therefore have the same
melody from beginning to end. The
circumstance of all the four voices
being represented under the violin
cleft) without any directions as to the
respective altitudes of voice, is likely
to produce perplexity. Suppose four
females were to sing this quartett?
And really the copy here given im-
plies such allotment of parts.

" Le Depart da Grenadier" Ro-
mance Sentimentale, Musique de
Blanchard. Pr. Is. — (Booseyand
Co.)

A pretty little ballad, quite in the
French style of vaudeville composi-
tion. The accompaniment is simple
enough, and the vocal part, too, is
liable to no other difficulty than what
may arise from the peculiarity of
French prosody, which claims consi-
derable attention from those who
wish to give this song its due effect.

" The charmed Bar/,," a Songfro?n
the Tales of Allan Cunningham,
sung by Mr. J. O. Atkins at the
Nobility s Concerts; the Music
composed by J. Macdonald Harris.
Pr. 2s.— (Monro and May, Hol-
born-Bars.)

There is great merit in this com-
position ! The design is as follows :
First stanza in A minor; second stanza
nearly a repetition of the first, but
the accompaniment much more active
and varied, and some deviation at

118

MUSICAL llKVIEAV.

the termination; third stanza in A
major (partly an imitation of the mi-
nor subject), followed by an impres-
sive portion in C major, and finally
concluding in A minor.

Our space is too limited for an
analysis of all these different por-
tions, although they not only deserve
consideration in detail, but would
lead to comments highly favourable
to the author. Mr. Harris evidently
lias weighed well the whole bearing
and complexion of his text; he has,
we might say, dramatized it through-
out. But it is not the general con-
ception alone which redounds to his
credit; the execution presents ample
evidence of good taste, a proper know-
ledge of the principles of the art,
and a mind guided by sound thought
and judgment. We hope this pro-
duction will attract particular notice,
sure as we are that its success will
only depend upon its being exten-
sively known.

Without wishing to weaken the fa-
vourable impression which the above
comment may produce, we must ob-
serve, that the minor motivo and the
fine transition to the relative major
key seem to be imitations from the
beautiful preghiera in Rossini's Most,
in Egitto.

" I saw while the earth was at rest-"
the Music composed, with an Ac-
companiment for the Piano-forte,
and respectfully dedicated to Mrs.
Mayer, by H. J. Banister. Price
Is. Gd. — (Printed for the Author,
119, Goswell-street.)
Excepting the symphony, which
is liable to objection on the score

of unequal rhythm, this composition
is pleasing and satisfactory. The
thoughts are not of a new cast, but
they are expressive of feeling, and
combine into an aggregate of flowing
melody. The accompaniment is suf-
ficiently diversified and full, to im-
part additional interest to the vocal
part.

" Oh! Minstrel, that impressive
strain /" a Canzonet, with an Ac-
companiment for the Harp or Pi-
ano-forte, as sung by Miss Wil-
liams of the King's Concerts, com-
posed by John Parry. Pr. Is. 6d.
— (Hodsoll, High-Holborn).
A little ballad susceptible of much
the same critical observation as the
one preceding. The melody offers
no novel feature, but its construction
is regular and proper, and altogether
calculated to form an agreeable ve-
hicle for the musical expression of
the text.

" Serenely o'er the waters dark"
or " Scendi nel piccol legno," the
celebrated Duet hi the Opera " La
Donna del Lago" composed by
Rossini. Pr. Is. Gd. — (Hodsoll,
High-Holborn.)

The English words to this sweet
duet of Rossini chime in pretty well
with the Italian melody: they are
stated to be the work of J. H. Cove,
Esq. One or two instances of ex-
ception, however, present themselves :
" over," for instance (p. 5), is scanned
o-ver." The music is given at full
length, with a satisfactory adaptation
of the accompaniment for the piano-
forte, and the Italian text is added
to the English.

P1OMEKA0E E>RES"§

EVEWIH"© ID'KESS

119
FASHIONS.

LONDON FASHIONS.

WALKING DRESS.

A rich brown-colour cloth coat,
made plain, and trimmed in front,
where it fastens with graduated scol-
lops of French braiding; broad at the
shoulders, and lessening towards the
waist, from thence extending till it
reaches the bottom of the skirt, and
finished on the outside with fringe
of the same colour. Broad band of
braiding round the collar, waist, cuffs,
the bottom of the skirt, and the seams
of the back, which meet in a point,
and are ornamented in the centre,
and finished with frogs. The epau-
lette is formed by a double row of
fringe, and from the wrist an orna-
mented scroll of braiding extends
half way up the arm. Black velvet
"bonnet, lined with the same ; the brim
very broad, and edged with amber-
colour satin and cord: the crown
deep, and small towards the top; the
velvet in large folds round it, and re-
lieved with bands of amber-colour
satin, garland of fancy flowers, and
satin bands of French folds. Cot-
tage cap, with full border of British
Mechlin lace. Yellow gloves, chin-
chilla muff, and black satin boots.

EVENING DRESS.

Dress of Urling's lace over a pink
satin slip : the corsage a la Rubens ;
the front formed of four pink satin j
straps edged with white satin, and |
fastened on each side with small gold
buckles. The sleeve short, and com-
posed of four rows of pink satin
squares edged with white ; between
each row a full puffing of lace ap-

VoL III. No. XIV.

pears: satin band round the arm.
The angular-embroidered stripes of
the skirt are terminated in festoons
of flowers, and a deep flounce of
scolloped lace arranged beneath, and
the whole finished by a rich embroi-
dered scolloped border: the length
of the skirt approaches to a train.
Spanish hat of pink satin, turned
up all round, rather broad in front,
where' it is slashed transversely,
and tulle introduced, excepting to-
wards the left side, -where a feather
protrudes, of which there is a full
plume of pink and white. The crown
has a quadrangular ornament, which
is lined, and each corner turned over.
Ear-rings and bracelets of pearl set
in gold ; gold chain and cross. Long
white kid gloves, lace scarf, and white
satin shoes.

GENERAL OBSERVATIONS ON FASHION
AND DRESS.

If our winter were as severe as
that of Russia, our fair pedestrians '
could not guard themselves more se-
dulously against the cold : never were
their winter habiliments of a warmer
description, and never did the fur-
riers reap such a harvest : not only
are muffs and tippets universally
worn, but trimmings, at least in walk-
ing dress, are generally of fur ; and
the same costly material serves as a
lining for the mantles of our most
tonish fair-ones. Cloth gowns begin
to be very general in walking dress;
they are in equal estimation with pe-
lisses : a good many are trimmed at
the bottom, collar, and cuffs, with a
It

GENERAL OBSERVATIONS ON FASHION AND DRESS.

broad band of fur. We have seen
also some trimmed with a bouillonnt
of satin, formed into lozenges by vel-
vet points ; and others, the trimming
of which consisted of velvet bands
cut in various forms.

Bonnets are something larger than
last month : beaver is much in favour
in walking dress, and so likewise is
black Leghorn. We have noticed a
good many of these last trimmed only
with shaded ribbon. A neat and ap-
propriate walking bonnet is compos-
ed of black velvet trimmed with three
black satin knots, disposed in a bias
direction in front of the crown.

Mantles, lined and trimmed with
fur, are now much more generally
used than pelisses in carriage dress :
the most stylish are composed of ei-
ther velvet or gros de Naples; those
of satin having become rather obso-
lete. They are lined and edged with
ermine, chinchilla, or squirrel, and
have also a high collar of the same
material; but the pelerine is not of
fur, but to correspond with the man-
tle : it is deep, and cut round in large
scollops: the mantle is fastened at
the throat either by a gold cord and
tassel, or else a gold clasp.

Several velvet bonnets worn with
these mantles have a band round the
bottom of the crown : it is fastened
by a gold buckle at the base of a
plume of feathers. A new hat has
just appeared of a singular but not
very becoming shape : the crown is
round and low ; the brim narrow be-
hind, but broader in front ; a strap,
about an inch wide, passes under the
chin from the right to the left, where
it is attached to the crown of the hat
by a gold button. A half-garland
of Marabouts is placed in a sloping
direction round the crown of the hat
in front.

Bonnets composed of spotted vel-
vet are also in favour : the brims of
these bonnets are adorned with blond
lozenges let in round the edge : the
brim is long, and a good deal de-
pressed in front: the crown is oval.
They are generally adorned with
flowers.

Cloth, twilled sarsnet, and reps
silk are the materials most in favour
in morning dress. Gowns made in
the pelisse style are still in estima-
tion; but we have seen lately a new
morning dress, which we consider
pretty and novel: it is composed of
dove-coloured levantine; is made
high, but not quite up to the throat :
the back is full; the fronts wrap
across, and fasten in a bow and ends
in the centre of the back. The
sleeve is of an easy fulness: the epau-
lette is composed of bands interlaced,
which form demi-lozenges. The skirt
is trimmed with a fulness of the same
material, confined by points, which
turn up, and each is attached by a
small satin knot. An apron of a
three-quarter length, cut round in
points, and finished in the French
style with pockets ornamented with
satin knots, completes this pretty
jauntee robe de matin.

Dress gowns are now made wider
at the bottom, and more gored than
they have lately been: the bodies
are still cut square, but rather high-
er in the bosom than they were during
the two last months ; the backs are
still narrow at the bottom, and they
invariably fasten behind. The ma-
terials for full dress are the same as
last month. Flowers are a great deal
worn in trimmings, particularly for
ball dresses. One of the prettiest
ball dresses that we have seen for
some time, has just been submitted
to our inspection : it is composed of

ritl'.NCH FEMALE FASHIONS.

121

pale rose-coloured tulle over satin to
correspond ; it is finished at the bot-
tom of the skirt by a very full satin
rouleau, above which is a bouillonnte
formed into waves by satin rouleaus:
bouquets of roses are interspersed in
the bouillonnte; the upper row is
confined by three satin rouleaus,
which go in a slanting direction up
the front of the dress to the waist,
and have bouquets of roses placed
on them at regular distances, thus
forming a very elegant drapery. The

corsage, cut moderately high and
square, has the upper part full, but
the fulness is confined by rouleaus
placed perpendicularly. Full sleeve,
the fulness also confined perpendi-
cularly by rouleaus, and finished by
a narrow satin band, which confines
it to the arm. Ceinture of pink satin,
fastened behind in a bow and ends :
the latter are ornamented with small
acorns composed of pearls.

Fashionable colours are the same
as last month.

FRENCH FEM

Paius, Jan. 18.

My dear Sophia,

Our promenade costume has
varied very little since I wrote last:
the principal difference is, that black
silk and velvet gowns are more worn ;
and shawls are partially displaced
by long fur tippets, of the palatine
form. We see also a good many
manteaux of velvet, coating, and sa-
tin; but the last are not much in
vogue. Black bonnets still continue
in favour; those of different colours
are also fashionable : we see even a
few in white satin, adorned with an
intermixture of Provence roses and
ears of ripe corn. The brims of bon-
nets are now much longer; some near-
ly meet under the chin. The fa-
shion of ornamenting the crown en
marmotte has also been revived.

Bareges is a good deal worn in
dinner dress; gowns made of it are
in general trimmed with a mixture
of gauze and ribbon; the gauze is
laid on in a fall rouleau, which is in-
terspersed with knots of ribbon : there
is only a single row of this trimming,
and it is always placed above a broad
rouleau of satin, the colour of the
dress: the gauze is also of the same

ALE FASHIONS.

colour as the gown, but the knots of
ribbon form a strong contrast — pon-
ceau and citron, scarlet and green,
olive and rose colour, and various
others.

It is particularly in full dress that
Parisian taste and invention have
been exercised during the last month,
on account of the d[ftereA~it fetes given
in honour of the Duke d'Angou-
leme. As the fete de la ville may
be called par excellence the fete of
fetes, I will try to describe to you
some of those dresses that were
esteemed the most elegant. The
Duchess d'Angouleme was dressed
in a white lace robe, with festoon
flounces of very rich lace looped by
agraffes of diamonds: the corsage
was a mixture of white satin and
lace, ornamented also with diamonds.
Head-dress, feathers and diamonds.
The Duchess of Berry's dress was
tulle over white satin : the trimming
an intermixture of tulle, satin, and
pearls. Her head-dress, a half- wreath
of diamonds and a superb lace veil.
The other ladies were in general
richly dressed, and profusely orna-
mented with jewels. Gowns of gold
and silver lama were in great request.
B 2

FRENCH FEMALE FASHIONS;

Some of these dresses were trimmed
with two rows of embroidery, between
which was a row of silver stars. Others
had an embroidery surmounted by
a row of lozenges let in foil. A third
trimming was formed of flowers and
entre-deux of embroidery. A fourth
had a very rich and deep border of
flowers, much raised in lama, and
the stalk and foliage embroidered;
and a fifth was a double row of
raised flowers in lama, surmounting
flounces disposed in festoons. The
bodies of these dresses were some
in the demi-bouillon style; others
were arranged round the bust in dra-
pery; others had the corsage dis-
posed in deep plaits in front, and the
plaits reversed by pearls or precious
stones: there were also some made
with a fan stomacher, and likewise
a few ornamented with silver strap-;
interlaced.

There were also several dresses
both in white and coloured tulle and
crape: many of the latter were made
a la sultanc. This dress is no longer
as at first a gown and petticoat: it is
now formed by the trimming, which
goes up the front of the dress, leav-
ing an opening, which is broad at
the bottom, but sloping up to the top,
so that the trimming meets at the
waist. One of the prettiest of these
dresses was in white crape : the trim-
ming consisted of a bouillonnte of
the same material, partially covered
with wolves' teeth in white satin,
edged with pink; there were two
rows round the bottom of the dress,
and a third row, wich formed the
sultanc. The space in the middle
was filled by knots of pale pink sa-
tin, each formed by a silver star in
the centre of the knot. The corsage,
cut very low, rather square across
the bosom, and falling very much
off the shoulders, was formed in

front into the shape of a demi-lozenge
by rouleaus of satin ; there are two
placed at some distance from each
other: in the centre of the waist in
front is a satin knot, one on each side
of the bosom, one in the middle of
each shoulder-strap, and one in the
centre of the back.

Some other dancing dresses were
trimmed with bouillonnte formed by
silver or pearl stars, bouffants inter-
mixed with flowers, drapery flounces
of gauze or tulle, looped with flowers
or precious stones. There was great
variety in the head-dresses. Several
elegantes were in toques, turbans, or
scarfs of gold or silver gauze, twisted
in the hair; but the greatest number
of the coeffures were en cheveux, ei-
ther a la neige or a U Espagnole : the
latter were ornamented with knots
of ponceau and citron satin, or knots
of turquoise blue, with branches of
the tree of Judea. Those a la neige
were adorned with brandies of oak-
leaves and acorns, either in gold or
silver. There were also some beau-
tiful wreaths of lilies in pearls and
laurel in emeralds. Among the new
articles in jewellery, one of the most
remarkable is called the tjringle a la
Victoire, in the form of a hand com-
posed of gold, which holds two crowns
of precious stones and pearls, inter-
laced with a garland of olives and
laurel in gold or enamel. I had for-
gotten in speaking of promenade
costume to tell you that our most
elegant reticules are of blue, green, or
cocoa-coloured velvet, in the form of
a tulip.

Fashionable colours are, Trocade-
ro (it is a mixture of fire-colour and
reddish yellow, )ponceau, citron, blue,
rose, violet, emerald, slate-colour,
and Spanish brown. Adieu! Always
your

Eudocia.

123

FASHIONABLE FURNITURE.

A CABINET DRESSING-CASE.

The annexed plate represents an
elegant cabinet dressing-case: it is
formed of fine mahogany, and richly
carved. The lower part incloses a
drawer, with wash-bason, ewer, &c.
complete. The upper part contains
three mirrors, in sliding frames and
running on centres, with sundry di-

visions and cases for small and large
bottles ; the whole forming an orna-
mental and useful piece of furniture,
suitable for a dressing or sitting-room.
We have been kindly permitted by
Mr. Durham to copy this handsome
piece of furniture at his manufactory,
26, Catherine-street, Strand.

FINE ARTS.

PANORAMA OF THE RUINS OF POMPEII.

In the early volumes of the Re-
pository, we took occasion to sub-
mit to our readers an account of the
discoveries previously made and then
making by means of the researches
undertaken among the ruins of the
ill-fated cities of Herculaneum and
Pompeii. These researches have
tended, as well to open to us many new
facts connected with the domestic
economy of the Romans at the com-
mencement of the Christian era, as
to illustrate and confirm by ocular
demonstration many circumstances
with which we were previously theo-
retically acquainted. The utility of
such knowledge, in a country where
the study of the classic writers of an-
tiquity is an essential branch of a li-
beral education, must be self-evident.

The proprietors of the Panorama
in the Strand have therefore, in our
opinion, displayed sound judgment
in the selection of a subject, the ex-
hibition of which affords to the pub-
lic an opportunity of participating in
the advantages, to which we have just
adverted. The painting was execut-

ed from a drawing made by Mr. Bur-
ford, immediately after the last erup-
tion of Mount Vesuvius, in Novem-
ber 1822. The remoteness of the
excavations from each other render-
ed it impossible for the artist to com-
bine all the interesting objects in one
view : hence he found it necessary to
take two views from those points
which offer the details to the specta-
tor on a larger scale, and more im-
mediately command the remains of
the city. The second of these views
will, we understand, be opened short-
ly to the public in Leicester-square.

It would be the more superfluous
to subjoin any remarks on the prin-
cipal objects which appear in the
view now on exhibition, as the print-
ed description with which the visitor
may provide himself at the room,
furnishes every requisite explanation.

We trust that the proprietors will
find their account in this spirited
attempt to combine useful informa-
tion with the amusement of a vacant
hour.

INTELLIGENCE, LITERARY, SCIENTIFIC, &c.

In a few weeks will appear, Tales and
Sketches of t/te West of Scotland, by a
gentleman who is a native of the scenes
he describes. The volume will also con-

tain a Sketch of the Changes in Society
and Manners which have occurred in that
district during the last half century.
The Life of Jeremy Taylor, and a Cri-

POETRY.

tical Examination of his Writings, by
Dr. Heber, Bisbop of Calcutta, with a
portrait by Warren, is nearly ready for
publication, in two volumes post 8vo.

Miss Alicia Lefanu is preparing for the
press, Memoirs of her grandmother, Mrs.
Frances Sheridan, mother of the late
Right Hon. R. B. Sheridan, and author
of " Sidney Biddulph," " Nourjahad,"
and " The Discovery," with Biographi-
cal Anecdotes of her Family and Contem-
poraries.

Shortly will be published, the first
part (to be continued quarterly) of The
Animal Kingdom, as arranged conforma-

bly with its Organization, by the Baron
Cuvier ; with additional Descriptions of
all the Species hitherto named, and many
not before noticed. The whole of the
Regne Animal of the above celebrated
zoologist will be translated in this under-
taking ; but the additions will be so con-
siderable as to give it the character of an
original work.

A new edition of Milhurris Oriental
Commerce, or the East-India Trader's
Complete Guide, abridged, improved,
and brought down to the present time, by
Thomas Thornton, is in the press.

;poetrp.

A SOLILOQUY ON THE APPROACH OF

WINTER.
O ye delightful, ye transporting scenes,
Ye balmy flowers, and happy village greens ;
Ye sunny hills, ye wide-extended plains,
O'er whom (unenvied prince) the shepherd

reigns;
Ye echoing woods, ye cultivated fields,
Where bounteous Nature tenfold treasure

yields ;
Ye smiling meadows, ye enchanting bowers,
Whose varied charms engaged my peaceful

hours ;
With what regret I see your smiles decay,
As winter spreads the night, and steals the

day!
How oft to you my early visits led,
When glistening dews your verdant surface

spread!
How oft, transported, viewed each object

round,
Whilst music fill'd the air, and flowers the

ground !
But swiftly now your boasted glory flies,
Your honours fade, your transient beauty

dies.
Now rustling winds supply the gentle

breeze,
And sweep the waning foliage of the trees.
The warbling birds unwilling stretch their

throats,
And change their bridal strains to funeral

notes :
To warmer suns some fleeting wing their way,
As loth to see their late loved home's decay.

Say, to what distant shore shall I retire,
Where rural joys may still my breast inspire ?
Or shall I, with my native climate, mourn,
And wait the happier season's wish'd return ;
Foretaste the pleasures of approaching spring,
See new-blown flowers, and hear the. wood-
lark sing?

O Thou, whose wisdom rules the vast pro-
found,
Directs the heavens, and whirls the seasons

round,
Look down propitious on my silent hours;
Exalt my soul, and actuate her powers;
Grant me a mind attentive, calm, and free,
And winter brings no gloomy hour to me !

BALLAD.

Foolish lady, foolish lady,

Wherefore all these groans and tears ?
Love is dead, and cannot hear you,

For the dust is in his ears.

Sir, I lack no other's reason,

For to tell me why I weep :
If with dust his ears are filled,

Then I shall not break his sleep.

Foolish lady, foolish lady,

Wherefore all these wasting sighs ?
Love is dead, and cannot see you,

For the lids are on his eyes.

Sir, I know his eyes are darken'd,
Or their light would shine on me :

If his love he cannot look on,
So am I that look on thee.

Simple woman, simple woman,
You may lie there night and day :

Love is dead, and cannot kiss you,
For his lips are turn'd to clay.

Sir, I know his lips are wither'd,
Or I should not miss their tones :

If his flesh is all consumed,
I was married to his bones !

Blessed lady, blessed lady,

You have taught me how to weep:

Love is dead, and cannot right you,
But his honour I will keep. T. M.

Printed by L. Harrison, 373, Strand.

THE

^Repository

ARTS, LITERATURE, FASHIONS,

Manufactures, §c.

THE THIRD SERIES.

Vol. III.

March 1, 1824

N°- XV.

EMBELLISHMENTS.

1. View of St. Leonard's Hill, the Seat of Earl Harcourt

2. View of Iver-Grove, the Seat of Lord Gambier .

.'}. Ladies' Morning Dress .......

4. Evening Dress .......

5. A French Bed and Decoration of the Chamber
G. Muslin Patterns.

PAGE

. 125
. 120
. 181
. ib.
. 1S5

CONTENTS.

MISCELLANIES.

Views of Country Seats.— St. Leonard's

Hill, the Seat of Earl Harcourt . . 125
Iver-Grove, the Seat of Lord Gammer . 120
The Confessions of a Rambler. No. VI. 127
The Parting : from " Recollections of

an Eventful Life; by a Soldier" . . 129
History of a Coquette (concluded) . . 132
Character of Cardinal de Richelieu . . 136

Remarkable Dream 139

Lisbon and the Portuguese, extracted
from Letters written in 1821 and 1822

(concluded) 143

Madalena, or the Consequences of Elope-
ment 145

Ghost Stories. No. V. — The Drilled

Goblins 150

Parisian Gambling-House Dinner . . 1.32
The Complaints of a Half- Pay Officer;

or, Was it so Twenty Years ago? . . 156
Gaelic Relics. No. X. — The Stranger
Grave, or Mackildonieh and the Son

of Alpin 160

Noble Exercise of the Power of Beauty 161
Timber-Rafts on the Rhine ..... 162
Anecdotes, &e. Historical, Literary,
and Personal — Fontenelle — Oracular
Saying of Thomas de Rymer — Elasti-
city of the Flea — Human Stature —
British Cedars — Statue of Peter the
Great — Etiquette of the Court of Flo-
rence— The late Rev. Dr. Fordyce —
White Mourning — Taliesin — Tudor
Vaughan ap Grono — Ancient Welch

Fortification 162

The Emigrant: A Sketch from Life . . 165
A Nobleman apprehended on his own
Warrant 168

MUSICAL REVIEW.

PIANO-FORTE.
Rimbault's Arrangement of Rossini's

Overture to Matilde e Corradino . . 172
Purkis's Selection of Favourite Airs from

Rossini's " La Donna del Lago" . . 174
Rimbault's Adaptation of Mozart's Grand

Symphony ib.

Select Italian Airs . . . ]75

French Romances .... »£.

Spanish Bolero and Walz . il>.

Arthur's Serenada H,.

Hoi-kin.son's Introduction and Rondo . ib.

ORGAN.
Cum Sancto Spiritu, Grand Chorus from
Mozart's Mass ]7(J

VOCAL MUSIC.

Vocal Anthology, Part IX 176

Banister's " Love wakes and weeps" . ib.
Voigt's " County Guy'" 177

FIXE ARTS.

Exhibition of the British Institution . ib.

FASHIONS.

London Fashions. — Ladies' Morning
Dress 181

Ladies' Evening Dress ib.

General Observations on Fashion and
Dress ib.

French Female Fashions 183

Fashionable Furniture. — A French Bed
and Decoration of the Chamber . . 185

INTELLIGENCE,
LITERARY AND SCIENTIFIC . . ib.

POETRY.

To the Author of " The Pilgrim's Tale" 186

LONDON :

PRINTED FOR, AND PUBLISHED BY, R. ACKERMANN, 101, STRAND;
To whom Communications (post-paid) are requested to be addressed.

Printed by L. Harrison, 373, Strand.

•

TO READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS.

Publishers, Authors, Artists, and Musical Composers, are requested to transmit,
on or before the 1 5th of the month, Announcements of Works which they may have on
hand, and we shall cheerfully insert them, as we have hitherto done, free of expense.
New Musical Publications also, if a copy be addressed to the Publisher, shall be duly
noticed in our Review ; and Extracts from new Books, of a moderate length and of an
interesting nature, suitable for our Selections, will be acceptable.

We assure our respected Northern Correspondent, that the Legend respecting the
Primogenitor of the Clan Mackenzie, shall appear in our next.

The agitation of the Question proposed by An Inquirer, could only lead to un-
pleasant controversy, without producing any benefit.

The Storm and Lines to the Lea shall have a place, if possible, in our next Number.

We fully calculated upon a communication front T. If any has been sent, it has
not reached our hands.

If 11. P. will favour us with the remainder of the Manuscript, we shall be enabled
to give a decisive answer on the subject.

Persons who reside abroad, and who wish to be supplied with this Work e%rery Month as
published, may have it sent to them, free of Postage, to New-York, Halifax, Quebec, and
to any part of the West Indies, at £i 12s. per Annum, by Mr. Thornhill, of the General
Post-Office, at No. 21, Sherborne-lane; to Hamburgh, Lisbon, Cadiz, Gibraltar, Malta, or
any Part of the Mediterranean, at £i 12s. per Annum, by Mr. Serjeant, of the General
Post-Office, at No. 22, Sherborne-lane ; and to the Cape of Good Hope, or any part of the
East Indies, by Mr. Guy, at the East-India House. The money to be paid at the time of
subscribing, for either 3, 6,9, or 12 months.

This Work may also be had of Messrs. Akkon and Kit at, Rotterdam.

THE

&epo$ttorp

ARTS, LITERATURE, FASHIONS,

Manufactures^ §c.

THE THIRD SERIES.

Vol. III.

March 1, 1824.

N°- XV.

VIEWS OF COUNTRY-SEATS.

st. Leonard's hill, the seat of earl tiaucouut.

The very fine situation of this ele-
gant abode must be seen to be ap-
preciated. It stands on the brow of
a commanding and finely wooded hill,
in the immediate vicinity of Windsor
Forest, and surrounded by an im-
mense extent of the richest country.

Our View of the House is from
the Lawn, shewing in the distance
Windsor Castle, which is seen to
most advantage from this spot, and
forms, with Eton College, a principal
feature in this noble scene, which
extends across the rich uplands of
Buckinghamshire, and embraces
Middlesex and Surrey. The house
is very irregular in its construction,
which is generally the result of fre-
quent additions. The site was for-
merly occupied by a gamekeeper's
lodge only, but it became of suffici-

Vol.IIL No. XV.

ent importance to be fit for the occa-
sional residence of Wm. Pitt, Earl
of Chatham, who took great delight
in retiring for a short time to this
beautiful spot, when he was secretary
at war. It came into the possession
of the Countess-Dowager of Walde-
grave, afterwards Duchess of Glou-
cester, who added so considerably to
the old building as to render it truly
comfortable. A colonnade extends
from the conservatory in front of the
breakfast-room and hall to the main
building, forming a pleasing connec-
tion, enriched with columns and de-
corations in the Roman Doric order,
which, with its treillage, the variety
of plants and flowering shrubs that
grace the entrance, and its irregu-
larity of surface, produce an effect
in the highest degree elegant, pleas-
S

126

IVI2R-GU.0VK.

ing, and picturesque, as will be per-
ceived on reference to the annexed
View.

The pleasure-grounds are beauti-
fully romantic, and the shrubberies
tastefully laid out. The entrance to
the grounds from the Windsor road
is by a very pretty rustic lodge, which
displays great taste in its arrange-
ment. Its form is pleasing, and the
exterior is covered in a fanciful man-
ner with the bark of trees, while
some portion is constructed of the
actual stems and unbarked blocks,
presenting their rude surface for the
support of the jessamine and flower-
ing plants that adorn it.

The Duke of Gloucester, after em-

bellishing the grounds, sold the whole
to John Macnamara, Esq. of whom
it was purchased in 1783 by the pre-
sent noble proprietor.

The prevailing opinion is, that St.
Leonard's Hill was a Roman en-
campment; and the discovery of some
antique coins, many of Vespasian,
Trajan, and the Lower Empire, with
some spear - heads, and a curious
brass lamp, has considerably strength-
ened this notion. A field on the de-
mesne, named the Hermit's Field,
which some time since contained a
well, called the Hermit's Well, cor-
roborates the traditionary saying,
that St. Leonard's Hill in former
times was the abode of a hermit.

IVER-GROVE,

THIJ SKAT OF LOUD GAMBIEK.

This house is situated on Shred-
tlings-Green, in the parish of Iver,
between Uxbridge and Windsor.
Though small, it is a fine specimen
of the taste of Sir John Vanbrugh,
whose works, generally speaking,
possess an originality, and a pictu-
resque and stately appearance, that
are not to be met with in any other
master: there is a boldness and a
masculine feeling, as exemplified in
the present moderate-sized mansion,
which is the result of a breadth of
parts, always aimed at and observa-
ble in this artist's works. Though
he had the good fortune to raise ma-
ny edifices on an extensive scale, they
are costly withoutgrandeur, and large
without sublimity. The heaviness
that pervades the buildings erected
by him gave rise to the well-known
couplet:

Lie heavy on him, Earlh ! for he
Laid many a heavy load on thee.

Still it is generally admitted, that lie
succeeded more than any other archi-
tect in forming a general whole, which ,
when viewed at a distance, possesses
a magnificent and imposing effect.
This mainly results from the tower-
ing elevations and bold projections
in which he so much delighted.

The present specimen, though
small, possesses all those characteris-
tics: it was built by Sir John for the
widow of Lord Mahon*. The plea-
sure-grounds and garden are laid out
with great taste; the whole exhibit-
ing a snug and comfortable appear-
ance. It was purchased by the
present noble proprietor of Mrs.
Colborne, relict of F. Colborne,
Esq.

* Lord Mahon fought a duel with the
Duke of Hamilton, which proved fatal
to them both.

127

THE CONFESSIONS OF A RAMBLER.
No. VI.

I have said that Mr. Mortimer's
arrival was the signal for our removal
from Smith's hotel to the house of a
friend of his, Mr. Brown, a mer-
chant, whose family consisted of him-
self, a wife, two daughters, and a
son, with an establishment of three
female and two male slaves. We
found our host and hostess hospi-
table, well-disposed people; their
daughters showy and rather agree-
able girls; and the son quite a cox-
comb. Compared with the same
class in England, this family was
many degrees behindhand in civili-
zation; the extent of the daughters'
accomplishments was reading and
writing, the latter without much at-
tention either to orthography or gram-
mar, and a very superficial knowledge
of music. They had been taught to
dance; but their movements bore a
greater resemblance to the oscillations
of an elephant, than to the elegant
motions of a votary of Terpsichore.
Of music they knew nothing, and
their native " wood-notes wild," as
their fond mother termed the sounds
which they sometimes emitted, were
as unharmonious as can possibly be
conceived. Yet they were good-
humoured, and less pretending than
we found most American women;
and they were excellent housewives
in one respect : they understood the
art of cooking in perfection, though
it was but seldom that they exercised
it. I should add, that their dress
was according to the English mode
of two years previous; and I found
that the London fashions were fol-
lowed here by those who set the ton,
and imitated, at an humble distance,
by their inferiors— I beg their par-

don— by those who were not so richly
endowed with the gifts of Fortune ;
for to hint at the possibility of one
man or woman being inferior to an-
other in America, is a high misde-
meanour. The son, I have already
said, was a finished coxcomb: he
wore a short nankeen jacket, white
jean trowsers and waistcoat, and
straw hat; and never stirred out with-
out an immense umbrella, to protect
him from the rays of the sun. In-
deed in America I soon found an
umbrella indispensable, and no gen-
tleman was without one: if the sun
shone, it was used by way of parasol;
and if it rained, it served as a shelter
from the storm. The youth I am
alluding to was occupied in his fa-
ther's counting-house all the morn-
ing, and was extremely eager in pur-
suing the main chance: the afternoon
he devoted to drinking large tum-
blers of grog, apple-toddy, or whis-
jkey punch; or in frequenting the
taverns, and playing fives, shuffle-
board, billiards, or any other of the
games of chance or of hazard which
were practised at those places of re-
sort. Gaming and drinking, I soon
found, were the two great pursuits,
next to that of getting money, of the
young Americans.

Of Mrs. Brown I can only speak
in terms of kindness; she was a very
motherly sort of body, and thought
she could never do enough to render
her guests comfortable. She took
care that we should have substantial
meals, and that eyery delicacy of the
season should be found upon the ta-
ble, of which she did the honours
in a way that would not have discre-
dited an Englibh lady. The only
S 2

128

THE CONFESSIONS OF A RAMBLER.

drawback on the pleasure we all felt
in her society was her inquisitiveness.
We had been told that this was a
distinguishing feature in the Ame-
rican character ; but at the hotel we
had experienced very little inconve-
nience from it. Mrs. Brown, how-
ever, was never weary of asking ques-
tions ; morning, noon, and night, she
came with her budget of inquiries,
to which we were obliged to find an-
swers ; and I believe, before we quit-
ted Baltimore, she was as well ac-
quainted with every incident in our
lives as we were ourselves. The
daughters had a spice of their mo-
ther's disposition; but, to me at least,
their cross-examinations were more
agreeable than those of Mrs. Brown.
What man can be angry when a
young and pretty girl takes it into
her head to feel interested enough
about him, to make his history, con-
duct, character, and prospects, the
subject of her inquiries ?

The old gentleman was quite a
character. He had been a lieutenant
in the revolutionary war, and had
imbibed a great dislike to the Eng-
lish: hence, perhaps, arose the friend-
ship between him and Mr. Mortimer,
who, both publicly and privately,
made no scruple of abusing the land
of his birth, and of ascribing the
most iniquitous motives to its govern-
ment. Englishmen he represented
as the natural enemies of America;
and he could scarcely think any one
of them honest, unless he left his
country branded with the character
of a seditious demagogue or a trai-
tor. With such a man it was not
likely I should long agree: but of
that hereafter. Mr. Brown would
not wear any garment manufactured
from English goods, though he gain-
ed his livelihood by selling British

manufactures to his countrymen. He
was usually habited in a pair of open
trowsers, and a long coat, something
like our surtouts, made from a spe-
cies of cotton cloth of American ma-
nufacture ; and when he saw his wife
and daughters dressed in the silks or
linens of England, he would exclaim,
" Aye, there they go! What can
you expect from the common herd,
when the wife and daughters of old
John Brown, who was the friend and
companion of Putnam, and who shed
his blood to establish the independ-
ence of his country, must decorate
their persons in the fripperies and
gewgaws of the unnatural parent,
against whose tyranny we were forced
to rebel?"—" Well, well, John," the
old lady would say, " we must do as
our neighbours do ; and we are not
the worse friends to America because
we dress ourselves in the Englishers'
goods." — " Aye, father," said the
young Brown, " and how should we
be able to live if every body was of
your opinion ? You know as well as
I, that all our money is made by sell-
ing English manufactures ; and I fan-
cy we should drive a dull trade if
every American was to take to wear-
ing cloth of domestic make." Here
I chimed in. " You should reflect,"
said I, " that your taxes are chiefly
defrayed from the duties on your
foreign imports, most of which come
from England. If you become a
manufacturing nation, the expenses
of your local and general govern-
ments will require a larger sum to be
raised by direct and internal taxa-
tion : how would that agree with your
habits and predilections?" Here Mr.
Mortimer burst out into an invective
against all tax-gatherers and those
who lived upon their produce; and
a warm political dialogue ensued.

THE PARTING.

129

which was only put an end to by the
mediatorial offices of the ladies.

The internal regulations of the fa-
mily were not much at variance with
those of a substantial shopkeeper in
England, but were widely different
from that elegance which character-
izes the establishments of our English
merchants. There was, however, a
plenty of every thing, even to super-
fluity: the table groaned under the
viands with which it was covered at
the different meals; and a want of
hospitality could not be attributed
to any member of the family.

Here the marriage between Mrs.
Fitzherbert and Mr. Mortimer was
celebrated with the Episcopal rites,
Mrs. F. being a member of the Church
of England. The gentleman receiv-
ed her from my hand; the Misses
Brown acted as bridemaids; and the
lovely Misses Fitzherbert were also
present at the ceremony. Two days
afterwards we left Baltimore for
Alexandria, in an American stage.
Such a vehicle I had never before
seen: it was of the shape of those
caravans which travel from town to
town in England, and are seen at our
fairs, with exhibitions of tumbling,
conjuring, wild beasts, &c. The roof
was covered with leather; and the
sides were of wood for about two
feet, and open to the top, except in
cold or wet weather, when leather
flaps suspended from the top were
fastened all around, and the interior

then presented the appearance of a
dark and dismal dungeon, which was
not, however, impervious either to
wind or rain. The seats were placed
across, and it was capable of holding
i from fourteen to sixteen persons, ex-
clusive of the driver, who was seated
in front. In this elegant carriage,
over roads which presented obstacles
at every step, and occasioned such a
jolting, that every bone was almost
forced from its socket, we travelled
to Washington, the capital of the
United States. On entering this
place, we were struck with the air of
desolation which reigned around ; and
I was about making an exclamation
not very flattering to American pride,
when the timely recollection, that it
might produce an altercation with
Mr. Mortimer induced me to be si-
lent. We had had enough of Ame-
rican stage-travelling, and pursued
our journey the same day to Alex-
andria by one of the packets which
ply upon the Potowmac between the
two places. A few hours' sail brought
us to the future home of Mrs. Mor-
timer; and we were welcomed by her
husband with an urbanity and a
warmth, that for a time dispelled the
prejudices which I could not but en-
tertain in his disfavour.

The evening was spent cheerfully ;
fatigue sent us early to repose; and
I retired, to reflect on the past and
form plans for the future.

A Rambler.

THE PARTING.

(From " Recollections of an Eventful Life.

By a Soldier.)

We had been about three months
in Jersey, when the order came for
our embarkation for Portugal; but
only six women to every hundred
men were allowed to accompany us.

As there were, however, a great many
more than that number, it was order-
ed that they should draw lots, to see
who should remain. The women of
the company to which 1 belonged

130

THE PARTING.

were assembled in the pay-serjeant's
room for that purpose. The men of
the company had gathered round
them to see the result, with various
degrees of interest depicted in their
countenances. The proportionate
number of tickets were made with
" to go"' or " not to go" written on
them. They were then placed in a
hat, and the women were called by
their seniority to draw their tickets.
I looked round me before they be-
gan. It was an interesting scene.
The serjeant stood in the middle
with the hat in his hand, the women
around him, with their hearts palpi-
tating, and anxiety and suspense in
every countenance. Here and there
you would see the head of a married
man pushed forward from amongst
the crowd in the attitude of intense
anxiety and attention.

The first woman called was the
Serjeant's wife — she drew " not to
go." It seemed to give little concern
to any one but herself and her hus-
band. She was not very well liked
in the company. The next was a
corporal's wife — she drew " to go."
This was received by all with nearly
as much apathy as the first. She
was little beloved either.

The next was an old hand, a most
outrageous virago, who thought no-
thing of giving her husband a knock-
down when he offended her, and
who used to make great disturbance
about the fire in the cooking way.
Every one uttered their wishes audi-
bly that she would lose ; and her hus-
band, if we could judge from his
countenance, seemed to wish so too.
She boldly plunged her hand into
the hat, and drew out a ticket; on
opening it, she held it up triumphant-
ly, and displayed " to go." — " Old
Meg will go yet," said she, " and live

to scald more of you about the fire-
side." A general murmur of disap-
pointment ran through the whole.
" She has the devil's luck and her
own," said one of them.

The next in turn was the wife of
a young man who was much respect-
ed in the company for his steadiness
and good behaviour. She was re-
markable for her affection for her
husband, and beloved by the whole
company for her modest and obliging
disposition. She advanced with a
palpitating heart and trembling hand
to decide on (what was to her, I be-
lieve,) her future happiness or mise-
ry. Every one prayed for her suc-
cess. Trembling between fear and
hope, she drew out one of the tickets,
and attempted to open it; but her
hand shook so, she could not do it.
She handed it to one of the men to
open. When he opened it, his coun-
tenance fell, and he hesitated to say
what it was. She cried out to him,
in a tone of agony, " Tell me, for
God's sake, what it is!" — " Not to
go," said he, in a compassionate tone
of voice. — " O God, help me! O
Sandy!" she exclaimed, and sunk life-
less in the arms of her husband, who
had sprung forward to her assistance,
and in whose face was now depicted
every variety of wretchedness. The
drawing was interrupted, and she
was carried by her husband to his
birth, where he hung over her in
frantic agony. By the assistance of
those around her, she was soon reco-
vered from her swoon, but she awoke
only to a sense of her misery. The
first thing she did was to look round
for her husband ; when she perceived
him, she seized his hand and held it,
as if she was afraid that he was go-
ing to leave her. " O Sandy, you'll
not leave me and your poor babie,

THE PARTING.

131

■will you?" The poor fellow looked
in her face with a look of agony and
despair.

The scene drew tears from every
eye in the room, with the exception
of the termagant whom I have al-
ready mentioned, who said, " What
are ye a' makin' sic a wark about?
Let the babie get her greet out ! I
suppose she thinks there's naebody
ever parted with their men but her,
wi' her faintin', and her airs, and
her wark!"

The drawing was again commenc-
ed, and various were the expressions
of feelings evinced by those concern-
ed. The Irish women in particular
were loud in their grief. It always
appeared to me that the Irish either
feel more acutely than the Scotch or
English, or that they have less re-
straint on themselves in expressing
it. The barrack, through the rest
of that day, was one continued scene
of lamentation.

We were to march the next
morning early. Most of the single
men were away drinking. I slept
in the birth above Sandy and his
wife. They never went to bed, but
sat the whole night in their birth,
with their only child between them,
alternately embracing their child and
each other, and lamenting their cru-
el fortune. I never witnessed in my
life such a heart-rending scene. The
poor fellow tried to assume some firm-
ness, but in vain; some feeling ex-
pression from her would throw him
off his guard, and at last his grief
became quite uncontroulable.

When the first bugle sounded, he
got up and prepared his things.
Here a new source, of grief sprung
up. In laying aside the articles which
he intended to leave, and which they
had used together, the idea seemed

fixed in her mind that they would
never use them in that way again, and
as she put them aside, she watered
them with her tears. Her tea-pot,
her cups, and every thing that they
had used in common, all had their
apostrophe of sorrow. He tried to
persuade her to remain in the bar-
rack, as we had six miles to travel to
the place of embarkation; but she
said she would take the last minute
in his company that she could.

The regiment fell in, and marched
off* amid the wailing of those who,
having two or three children, could
not accompany us to the place of
embarkation. Many of the men had
got so much intoxicated, that they
were scarcely able to walk. The
commanding officer was so displeas-
ed at their conduct, that, in coming
through St. Helier's, he would not
allow the band to play.

When we arrived at the place
where we were to embark, a most
distressing scene took place, in the
men parting with their wives. Some
of them indeed it did not appear to
affect much; others had got them-
selves nearly tipsy; but most of them
seemed to feel acutely. When San-
dy's wife came to take her last
farewell, she lost all government of
her grief. She clung to him with a
despairing hold. "Oh! dinna, din-
na leave me!" she cried. The ves-
sel was hauling out. One of the Ser-
jeants came to tell her that she would
have to go ashore. " Oh! they'll
never be so hard-hearted as to part
us!" said she; and running aft to the
quarter-deck, where the commanding
officer was standing, she sunk down
on her knees, with her child in her
arms. " Oh! will you no let me gang
wi' my husband? Will ye tear him
frae his wife and his ween? He has

132

HISTORY OF A COQUETTE.

nac frien's but us — nor we ony but
him — and, oh! will you mak' us a'
frien'less? See my wee babie plead-
in' for us!"

The officer felt a painful struggle
between his duty and his feelings;
the tears came into his eyes. She
eagerly caught at this as favourable
to her cause. " Oh ! aye, I see you
have a feeling heart — you'll let me
gang wi' him ! You have nae wife :
but if you had, I am sure you wad
think it unco hard to be torn frae
her this way — and this wee darling."
— " My good woman," said the offi-
cer, " I feel for you much, but my
orders are peremptory, that no more
than six women to each hundred
men go with their husbands. You
have had your chance as well as the
other women ; and although it is hard
enough on you to be separated from
your husband, yet there are many
more in the same predicament, and
it is totally out of my power to help
it." — " Well, well," said she, rising
from her knees, and straining her in-
fant to her breast, " it's a' owre wi'
us, my puir babie ! This day leaves

us frien'less on the wide world." —
" God will be your friend," said I,
as I took the child from her until
she should get into the boat. Sandy
had stood like a person bewildered
all this time, without saying a word.
" Farewell, then, a last farewell then!"
said she to him. " Where's my ba-
bie?" she cried. I handed him to
her — " Give him a last kiss, Sandy."
He pressed the infant to his bosom
in silent agony. " Now a's owre!
Farewell, Sandy! We'll may-be meet
in heaven ;" and she stepped into the
boat with a wild despairing look.
The vessel was now turning the pier,
and she was almost out of our sight
in an instant ; but as we got the last
glimpse of her, she uttered a shriek,
the knell of a broken heart, which
rings in my ears at this moment. San-
dy rushed down below, and threw
himself into one of the births in a
state of feeling which defies descrip-
tion. Poor fellow, his wife's forebod-
ings were too true ! He was amongst
the first that were killed in Portugal.
What became of her I have never
been able to learn.

HISTORY OF A COQUETTE.

(Concluded

I consoled myself for the defec-
tion of Squire Chase by directing my
battery at the heart of Lord Listless,
on whom, for some time, I tried
all the arts of coquetry in vain; in
fact, his lordship was regarded as
a man completely invulnerable to eve-
ry feeling but self-love. Inaccessible,
however, as his heart was supposed
to be, I at last found a way to it: I
praised his taste in dress, consulted
him about my toilet, and occasionally
gave my opinion as to what colours
were most becoming to his complex-

from p. 74.)

ion. By this means I succeeded at
last in making him fancy himself in
love with me ; and as his rank on the
one hand, and his reputed insensibi-
lity on the other, made him a very
creditable conquest, I enjoyed the
delight of leading him about in my
chains, which I thought a little ma-
nagement would induce him to wear
till I was tired of his homage. Soon
after I had secured the peer, chance
threw Mr. Doubtall in my way : he
was a philosopher on Hobbes' system,
and he maintained his opinions with

HISTORY OF A COQTJKTTK.

133

an obstinacy which piqued me into
a desire of convincing him that pain
was not an imaginary evil, and I flat-
ter myself that I completely convinc-
ed him of it before I had done with
him. It was necessary to make my
approaches cautiously, and to attack
his heart by a show of deference to
his understanding. O Mr. Editor,
•what fools are philosophers in love !
I soon brought my stoic, who pro-
fessed to regard every thing with in-
difference, to tremble at my frown ;
nay, I have actually seen him turn
as pale as ashes at my giving a kind
look to any body else.

As I considered the conquest of
Mr. Doubtall's heart as the most
glorious I ever made, I took the
greatest delight in exhibiting him as
my captive ; but in riveting his chains
I unluckily loosed those of Lord
Listless, who, happening to be pre-
sent one day at a dispute which I had
with his rival on the doctrine of in-
nate ideas, was struck with such hor-
ror at hearing me use a Latin quota-
tion, that he abruptly quitted the
room, and never could be drawn by
any artifice to pay me another visit.
As he was at that time the only os-
tensible pretender to my hand, Mr.
Doubtall saw him retreat with great
exultation, and seized the occasion
to press for my consent to an imme-
diate marriage. I evaded a reply as
long as I could, but when I was at
last obliged to speak, I told him
gravely, that I was really shocked at
his making so unphilosophical a pro-
posal; for, thanks to the pains he had
taken to enlighten my mind, I was
above submitting to so senseless a
yoke; and if he meant to preserve
my friendship, he must talk no more
about it. He tried in a florid ha-

VoUUL No. XV.

rangue to gain my consent to a more
philosophical connection; but I evad-
ed it by declaring, that my object be-
ing what the grand object of every
rational being ought to be, the pro-
motion of general utility, I could by
no means consent to a step which
would divert, at least for a time, his
energies from their proper source:
but as I was determined not to leave
him without hope, I added, that when
he had succeeded in bringing the
greatest part of the nation over to
his opinions, I would then join him
in setting an example to our converts
of a rational union. One might rea-
sonably suppose that such an offer as
this would be received by a man of
his principles with transport ; but in-
stead of that, he flew into a most un-
philosophical fury, and as in his pas-
sion he made some very severe re-
flections on my conduct, I answered
him with an asperity which brought
on a violent quarrel, and we parted.
Being at a ball one evening, soon
after I had lost Mr. Doubtall, I ob-
served a young gentleman looking at
me earnestly, but with perfect indif-
ference. Surprised and piqued at the
cold and scrutinizing air with which
he eyed me, I inquired who he was,
and was answered, " Oh ! it is Sir
George Worthy : he is lately come
to his title and a very fine estate,
which is a monstrous pity, for he is a
sad stupid animal; indeed some peo-
ple think him a Methodist." This
last piece of information did not dis-
courage me; I soon contrived to be
introduced to Sir George, whom I
found a man of sense, taste, and of
morals more strict than men of fa-
shion generally are, to which it was
owing that he acquired the charac-
ter of a Methodist. He was extreme-
T

1.34

HISTORY OF A COQUETTK.

ly particular in his ideas of women:
he had heard that I was a coquette,
and that made him treat me with a
petrifying politeness, a hundred times
more mortifying than rudeness would
have been. I saw clearly that my
usual weapons would here be useless;
he was proof against all the artillery of
blushes, looks, and smiles, and there
was no enlisting his amour propre in
my service, for he had no foibles ap-
parently, not even, as I thought, a
master passion. In short, any body
but myself would have given up the
case as a desperate one; but nil de-
sperandum was always my motto. I
laid down a regular plan of opera-
tions, and persisted in them, though
for some time without any success :
I began by assuming, when in his
presence, a thoughtful air at times,
soon afterwards I appeared to disre-
gard the attentions of the fops by
whom I was surrounded; my dress
by degrees became more simple, and
though it was in reality never less
studied, yet it had an air of easy
negligence: with all this, however,
I gained very little ground, but chance
stood my friend unexpectedly. I had
secretly relieved a poor family ; the
circumstance became known to Sir
George, and from that moment he
regarded me with a more kindly as-
pect. This gave me fresh courage ;
as we grew more intimate, I affected
to regret the past, and to be deter-
mined on an entire change of charac-
ter: I made him my Mentor, pretend-
ed to consult him on all occasions,
and in fine succeeded at last in com-
pletely conquering his heart.

But, alas! Mr. Editor, I was in
the situation of many others, who
work very hard to obtain a treasure,
and do not know how to use it pro-
perly when they have at last got it.

No sooner was I sure of Sir George,
than I began to look back with re-
gret on the number of conquests that
I had probably missed making while
I was subduing him, and to long for
an opportunity of spreading my nets
for new admirers. Unfortunately, he
informed me that he should be
obliged to spend a few weeks in the
country; and on the first evening of
his absence I accepted an invitation
to a fancy ball. It so chanced that he
forgot some papers of consequence,
and being obliged to return for them,
he came to pay me a visit at the very
moment that I had finished dressing
for the ball. He flew to me with all
the impetuosity of love, but stopping
short, and surveying me with a look
of displeasure, or rather of disgust,
said, that as he saw he was evidently
not expected, he would not intrude
upon me. Stung at this speech,
which was plainly levelled at my
dress, or rather undress, for to say
the truth I was rather fashionably
than decently attired, I made a very
haughty reply. He quitted the room
with a silent bow, and the next morn-
ing I received a farewell epistle from
him, written in a style which convinc-
ed me that all hopes of a reconcilia-
tion would be in vain.

His loss cost me the severest pangs
I ever felt, and it was a considerable
time before I could divert my cha-
grin by collecting round me again
the group of triflers whose homage
I had for some time appeared to dis-
dain.

It would fill a volume instead of a
letter, Mr. Editor, if I were to re-
count to you the history of all my
achievements in this way; suffice it
to say, that although I set out with
a positive determination to marry be-
fore my power over your sex began

HtSTOllY OF A COQUETTE.

13.5

to decline, yet the habit of coquetting
carried me on from conquest to con-
quest, till at last I was roused from
the delightful dream of empire, by
perceiving, that though I was still
toasted, flattered, and admired, yet
I was no longer proposed for. In
fact, my character was by this time
so generally understood, that nobody
could be hardy enough to think of
making a wife of me. My female ac-
quaintance, who still dreaded, though
they affected to despise my power,
endeavoured to hasten its downfall
by ridiculing me as an old maid,
through my own fault. And here, by
the way, I must digress a moment to
observe, that I don't see there was
any fault in the case : I might per-
haps justly be accused of miscalcu-
lating my resources, or of want of
tact in applying them, but to a point-
blank charge of folly I never can
submit; for surely, if the love of
conquest exalts men into heroes, it
may with equal justice be said to
transform women into heroines. What
are the achievements of warriors com-
pared to the conquests of a coquette ?
Can the instinct which you dignify
with the name of courage, that in-
duces you to hazard your own lives
and take those of others, merely to
acquire what you call glory, be com-
pared to the magnanimity with which
we sacrifice our health, our comfort,
nay, often the tender ties of love and
friendship, in order to extend our
conquest, not by spilling blood or
devastating provinces, but by subdu-
ing the minds of our enemies, and
forcing them to bless the hand that
loads them with chains? Depend up-
on it, Mr. Editor, that a successful

coquette is a much more respectable
character than any conqueror that
ever existed, from Alexander the
Great down to Napoleon le Grand.
But I forget that I am not writing a
vindication of my class, but a histo-
ry of myself, which I beg leave to
conclude by stating the motives which
induced me to trouble you with it.
In the first place, I think it an injus-
tice to the class, not to give them
that prominent place which they de-
serve among the sisterhood; and in
the next, I think my adventures may
be of service to the younger mem-
bers of our class, who have not yet
quite reached the verge of old maid-
enism, by inducing them to reflect in
time, whether it may not be better to
secure even one loyal and obedient
subject in the person of a husband
for life, than to risk being left at
last in that most degrading of all si-
tuations, a deposed toast, deprived
of all the pride, pomp, and circum-
stance of empire ; no train of admir-
ers in public, no sighing adorers in
private, no partners contending for
her hand at the ball, no opponents
eager to lose their money to her at
the card-table. All this, Mr. Editor,
I have felt; and I have charity
enough to wish to prevent others
from feeling it, unless they think
they can console themselves with re-
citing to some humble cousin, or ad-
miring waiting-maid, the long-past
glories of those days, in which they
shone in all the pride and power of
conscious beauty, and broke hearts
as easily as they cracked walnuts. I
am, sir, your most obedient,

Sl'.IlAPIIINA.

T !.l

13(3

CHARACTER OF CARDINAL DE RICHELIEU.

Never did anyone carry dissimu-
lation farther than this minister: when
he spoke in council, it was difficult,
nay impossible, to tell to which side
he inclined, so great was the seeming
impartiality with which he weighed
the pros and cons. The condemna-
tion of Bouteville furnishes an ex-
ample, among many others, of the
address with which Richelieu veiled
his real sentiments. Duelling, ac-
cording to the ancient laws of France,
was punished with death, but this
was a penalty seldom enforced. Boute-
ville had fought twenty-one duels;
twenty-one times he had received his
pardon; and, as if in contempt of
the lenity shewn him, he again trans-
gressed. He had sought refuge at
Brussels, with his cousin Descha-
pelles. After the commission of
his twenty -first offence, the arch-
duchess, who was governess of the
Low Countries, solicited his pardon
from the King of France, who repli-
ed that he could not grant it; but ne-
vertheless for her sake he would take
care, that if Bouteville entered
France he should not be apprehend-
ed, provided that he did not appear
at Paris, and especially at court.
Piqued at this reply, Bouteville had
the insolence to boast, that he would
return to fight a duel in France, nay,
even at the Place Royale in Paris,
where the king resided. He had
been followed to Brussels by Beu-
vron, who was anxious to fight him,
in order to revenge the death of a
friend of his, who had fallen in one
of Bouteville's preceding duels. He
appointed a meeting with Benvron
at the Place Royale, on the 1 2th May,
1627. They had neither of them any
advantage over the other, but Des-

chapelles, Bouteville's second, killed
Bussy d'Amboise, Beuvron's second.
Bouteville and Deschapelles took
flight immediately, but they were ar-
rested at Vitri le Brule, and criminal
informations directly filed against
them.

Richelieu reported the case in the
privy council, and used every argu-
ment that could be urged in favour
of Bouteville. His birth, the ser-
vices that his family and himself had
done to the state, his bravery and
intrepidity ; he even found something
to say in defence of his insensate pas-
sion for duels ; in short, it was im-
possible to defend Bouteville in a
more masterly manner than he did :
nevertheless, he had previously de-
termined that the rigour of the law
should be executed. This factisprov7
ed by the discontent he manifested
at the sentence of the Parliament, in
which, contrary to the usual custom,
Bouteville was honourably spoken of,
and only a third of his property con-
fiscated, though the law directed that
the whole should be forfeited. When
Richelieu saw the sentence, he said,
in an angry tone, " It is well to be
related to the President de Mesmes."
The president was father-in-law of
Bouteville.

But the talents of the cardinal ap-
peared to still greater advantage in
parrying the blow aimed at him by
Marie de Medicis, who, after having
made his fortune, became his enemy,
and sought to banish him from the
court, by accusing him of being the
principal author of the troubles with
which France was at that time torn.
When the council of state met to
deliberate on the means of appeasing
these troubles, Richelieu would at first

CHARACTER OF CARDINAL DK RICHELIEU.

137

have excused himself from speaking
on a subject that might be consider-
ed to affect him personally ; but be-
ing compelled by the king's order to
speak, he proposed at some length,
and with a great deal of artifice, five
measures that might be employed ;
but having examined each of these
in turn, he reduced them to two.
One was his own resignation, which
lie said he would not hesitate to pro-
pose, if it could be regarded as a fea-
sible expedient, and one that could
be resorted to without difficulty ; but
he took care to add, that with re-
gard to it there were many things to
consider ; and he drew such a pic-
ture of the evils that might attend
his quitting the helm of the state,
as to prove very plainly, that the re-
medy was worse than the disease.
He then, with great apparent con-
fusion and timidity, passed to the
other expedient, which was the exile
of the queen mother. He displayed
with great appearance of candour
all the evils to which this step also
might give rise ; but, nevertheless, he
ended by proving that it was the on-
ly one which could save France from
the horrors of civil war.

Constantly surrounded by nume-
rous and powerful enemies, it requir-
ed all the address and the courage of
which Richelieu was master, to baf-
fle their efforts. Even these would
have been insufficient to guard a man
of principle, but the laxity of Riche-
lieu in that respect is notorious: all |
means were good to him that were
necessary for his safetv or aggran- :
dizement. He gave abundant proof
of this in the manner in which he I
dispersed the powerful party raised :,
against him by Gaston, the king's ''
brother, who was at once the most
constant and the most terrible of his '"■

enemies. This prince was surround-
ed by confidants, counsellors, and fa-
vourites, who employed themselves
without ceasing in plotting against
the cardinal. Some of these Riche-
lieu contrived to get banished, others
he had arrested and put into the Bas-
tille, and many of those whom he
dreaded most, he caused to be con-
demned to death. While we hate his
cruelty and dissimulation, we are forc-
ed to respect his courage and pre-
sence of mind. He gave a strikin£>-
proof of these qualities in the manner
in which he escaped the snare laid
for him by Madame Chevreuse. This
lady, who had great influence over
Gaston, engaged that prince to go
to the Chateau de Fleury, accompa-
nied by several of his friends, to ask
for a dinner of the cardinal. As they
judged that Richelieu could not re-
fuse the rites of hospitality to the
prince, it was settled that the latter
should, during the time of dinner,
create a quarrel, and during the tu-
mult stab Richelieu.

The cardinal was informed of this
plan by the commander of Valancay,
and without losing a moment, he has-
tened to Fontainebleau, where Gas-
ton then was. " Monseigneur," said
he, " I am informed of the honour
which your royal highness designs
me: however charmed I should have
been to do the honours of my house
to you, I consider it still more expe-
dient to leave your royal highness at
liberty to amuse yourself as you
please; I have therefore quitted my
house, which is entirely at your ser-
vice."

One may easily imagine how con-
founded Gaston must have looked.
As to the Duchess de Chevreuse,
Richelieu took care not to give her
any time to devise a fresh plot against

1.1

CHARACTER OF CARDINAL DE RICHELIEU.

him, for lie had her sent immedi-
ately into exile; a punishment which
was certainly lenient enough for the
mischief she meditated. Her fu-
ry, when she heard the sentence,
passed all bounds ; after having in-
veighed against the cardinal as the
cause of all the evils which afflicted
the country, she concluded by de-
claring, that she should still find the
means of making him expiate all his
crimes by his blood.

Of all the victims whom Riche-
lieu sacrificed to his safety or his am-
bition, there is not one whose fate
moves our sympathy more than that
of the Marshal de Marillac, who, as
well as his brother, was decidedly
attached to the interests of the queen
mother and Gaston. Marillac, De la
Force, and Schomberg were at that
time all three joint commanders of
the French army; for, according to
the singular custom of those times,
they took the command each by turns
for a day. Marillac was in daily ex-
pectation of hearing of the disgrace
of the cardinal, which his brother,
who was at court, had assured him
would certainly take place very spee-
dily. A king's messenger arrived
with dispatches at the moment that
the three marshals were going to sit
down to dinner. . De la Force and
Schomberg were already arrived, but
Marillac was not yet come. " Let us
dine," said De la Force, " and we
will afterwards read the dispatches
with M. Marillac: it is his day." —
Schomberg, more curious, read the
dispatch, and finding that it was an
order to arrest Marillac, he commu-
nicated it to Puysegur: both of them
were greatly embarrassed. Marillac
had that day the command, and be-
sides his being in general beloved by
the troops, he had brought with him

from Champagne 7000 men, who
were devoted to him. Schomberg and
Puysegur called a council of the cap-
tains of the guards, and informed
De la Force of the contents of the
dispatches. Some moments after-
wards Marillac arrived, and ordered
the captains of the guards to retire.
" No," said Schomberg, " they must
remain to assist me to execute the or-
ders of the king."—" Sir," added
the Marshal de la Force, " I am your
friend, you will not doubt it, and it
is as such that I beg you will submit
to the will of his majesty without
murmuring and with patience : per-
haps it will end in nothing." He then
shewed him the order.

" Sir," replied Marillac with great
dignity and firmness, " it is not per-
mitted to a subject to murmur against
his master, nor to say that what his
king alleges against him is false. I
can with truth protest that I have
never done any thing contrary to my
allegiance ; but the truth is, that my
brother and I have always been the
servants of the queen mother, against
whom and her friends the Cardinal
de Richelieu directs his vengeance."
Having obtained permission to see
his nephew, colonel of a regiment of
infantry, he charged him not to grieve
for his fate, but to be always mindful
of his last injunction, which was to
serve the king faithfully. He beg-
ged of him also to tell all the offi-
cers of the troops who had accompa-
nied him from Champagne, that if
they ever wished to oblige him, and
to give him pleasure, it would be by
redoubling their zeal and devotion in
the service of the king.

These proofs of loyalty and devo-
tion did not, however, save the brave
soldier from the fate prepared for
him by his wily enemy. He lost his

REMARKABLE DREAM.

139

head upon the scaffold; an act which
will always reflect disgrace upon the
memory of Richelieu, whose safety

might have hecn secured as well by
the banishment as by the death of
his victim.

REMARKABLE DREAM.

It may be assumed as a certain
fact, that almost every man has, at
some period or other of his life, ex-
perienced in sleep a consciousness
of every action he could have per-
formed when awake. He travels
over extended regions ; he runs, walks,
rides with freedom and agility, and
not unfrequently seems endued with
new and superior powers; he soars
aloft, and is wafted through the
air, or gently descending, he glides
through the waters, and with such
perfect command and security, that
when he awakes, he is hardly per-
suaded it was but a dream. In op-
position to these observations it is
urged, that exactly similar effects are
produced from disease: such is its
influence in numberless cases, that
the subject seems just as forcibly im-
pressed, as from any ideas that could
he received through the medium of
the senses. Persons insane will per-
severe in exercises beyond their usu-
al strength, seeming all the while
to entertain no doubt that they are
moving in carriages, on horseback,
performing military exercises and evo-
lutions, or buried in philosophical
experiments. Multitudes of such
cases will readily occur; and it is ar-
gued, that as the mind, in those ex-
amples, is evidently not disengaged
from the controul of the body, so nei-
ther, in the other, is there any reason
to suppose it different; the circum-
stance of sleep and insensibility being
something not unlike disease, a state
of suspension of many of the active
powers.

Some philosophers imagine that
the mind never remains inert, that
successions of ideas incessantly pre-
sent themselves, and that thought is
always employed. With respect,
however, to this notion, it may be
alleged, that it is highly improbable
that dreams, which, according to the
supposition, must perpetually occur,
should be so seldom and so faintly
recollected. To this it may be an-
swered, that the same thing happens
when we are awake. Let any per-
son try to recal the whole train of
ideas that has passed through his
mind during the twelve hours that
he has been stirring about in the or-
dinary business of the day: he will
be able to remember particular es-
sential transactions; but if he attempts
to recover the mass of ideas that fill-
ed his mind for that portion of time,
or even only a considerable part of
the time, he will find it impracticable
labour to trace the connection of his
thoughts. The same broken con-
fused assemblage will be perceived
even by him who possesses the most
retentive memory, as when he first
awakes with that imperfect conscious-
ness that is usually termed a dream.
Were we to commit to writing, in
the minutest manner, every idea our
remembrance then suggested, it would
be difficult, perhaps impossible, to
collect such a number as would em-
ploy one hour to read over.

The popular belief, that dreams
are a kind of preternatural admoni-
tion, meant to direct our conduct, is
a notion extremely dangerous. As

140

REMARKABLE DREAM.

nothing can be more ill-founded, it
ought to be strenuously combated.
Innumerable reasons might be offer-
ed; but it will be sufficient to say,
that it is inconsistent with the gene-
ral design of Providence; it •would
overturn the principles that regulate
society. The benign intention of the
Author of nature is in no instance
more eminently displayed than in
withholding from us the certain know-
ledge of future events. Were it
otherwise constituted, man would be
the most miserable of beings; he
would become indifferent to every
action, and incapable of exertion;
overwhelmed with the terrors of im-
pending misfortune, he would en-
dure the misery of criminals awaiting
the moment of execution. The
proof, unanswerable and decisive, that
dreams are not to be considered as
prognostics, is, that no example can
be produced of their successful ef-
fect, either in pointing out means of
preventing harm, or facilitating bene-
fit. Certain instances may be alleg-
ed, where the conformity of a dream
with some subsequent event may
have been remarkable; but we may
venture to assert, that such disco-
veries have generally happened after
the facts, and that fancy and inge-
nuity have had the chief share in
tracing the resemblance, or finding
out the explanation. If it be grant-
ed that thought never stops, and
that the mind is perpetually employ-
ed, the wonder should rather .be,
that so few cases of similitude have
been recorded. If millions of the
human species through the whole
extent of time have been, during their
state of slumber, continually subject
to dream, perhaps the calculators
of chances would be apt to maintain,
that near coincidences have probably

happened much more frequently than
they have been either noticed or re-
collected.

Amongst the various histories of
singular dreams and corresponding
events, the following seems to merit
being rescued from oblivion. Its au-
thenticity will appear from the rela-
tion; and a more extraordinary con-
currence of fortuitous and accidental
circumstances can scarcely be pro-
duced or paralleled.

Adam Rogers, a creditable and
decent person, a man of good sense
and repute, who kept a public-house
in Portlaw, a small hamlet nine or
ten miles from Waterford, in Ireland,
dreamed one night that he saw two
men at a particular green spot on the
adjoining mountain, one of them a
small sickly-looking man, the other
remarkably strong and large. He
then saw the little man murder the
other, and awoke in great agitation.
The circumstances of the dream were
so distinct and forcible, that he con-
tinued much affected by them. lie
related them to his wife, and also to
several neighbours, next morning.
After some time he went out cours-
ing with greyhounds, accompanied,
amongst others, by one Mr. Browne,
the Roman Catholic priest of the
parish. He soon stopped at the
above-mentioned green spot on the
mountain, and calling to Mr. Browne,
pointed, it out to him, and told him
what had appeared in his dream.
During the remainder of the day he
thought little more about it. Next
morning he was extremely startled at
seeing two strangers enter his house,
about eleven o'clock in the forenoon.
He immediately ran into the inner
room, and desired his wife to take
particular notice, for they were pre-
cisely the two men that he had seen

REMARKABLE DUKAM.

141

in his dream. When they had con-
sulted with one another, their appre-
hensions were alarmed for the little
weakly man, though contrary to the
appearance in the dream. After the
strangers had taken some refresh-
ment, and were ahout to depart in
order to prosecute their journey,
Rogers earnestly endeavoured to dis-
suade the little man from quitting his
house and going on with his fellow-
traveller. He assured him, that if
he would remain with him that day,
lie would accompany him to Carrick
next morning, that heing the town to
wdiich the travellers were proceeding,
and near which the little man's rela-
tions lived. He was unwilling and
ashamed to tell the cause of his be-
ing so solicitous to separate him from
his companion ; but as he observed
that Hickey, which was the name of
the little man, seemed to be quiet and
gentle in his deportment, and had
money ahout him, and that the other
had a ferocious bad countenance, the
dream still recurred to him. He
dreaded that something fatal would
happen ; and he wished, at all events,
to keep them asunder. However,
the humane precautions of Rogers
proved ineffectual; for Caulfield,
such was the othei''s name, prevailed
upon Hickey to continue with him on
their way to Carrick, declaring that,
as they had long travelled together,
they should not part, but remain to-
gether until he should see Hickey
safely arrive at the habitation of his
friends. The wife of Rogei's was
much dissatisfied when she found
that they were gone, and blamed her
husband exceedingly for not being-
peremptory in detaining Hickey.

About an hour after they left Port-
law, in a lonely part of the mountain,

Vol. III. No. XV.

very near the place observed by Ro-
gers in his dream, Caulfield took the
opportunity of murdering his compa-
nion. It appeared afterwards, from
his own account of the horrid trans-
action, that as they were getting over
a ditch, he struck Hickey on the back
part of the head with a stone, and
when he fell down into the trench,
in consequence of the blow, Caulfield
stabbed him several times with a
knife, and cut his throat so deeply,
that the head was almost severed
from the body. He then rifled
Hickey's pockets of all the money in
them, took part of his clothes, and
every thing else of value about him,
and afterwards proceeded on his way
to Carrick. He had not been long
gone, when the body, still warm, was
discovered by some labourers who
were returning to their work from
dinner.

The report of the murder soon
reached to Portlaw. Rogers and his
wife went to the place, and instantly
recognised the body of him whom
they had in vain endeavoured to dis-
suade from going on with his trea-
cherous companion. They at once
spoke out their suspicions, that the
murder was perpetrated by the fellow-
traveller of the deceased. An im-
mediate search was made, and Caul-
field was apprehended at Waterford,
the second day afterwards. He was
brought to trial at the ensuing as-
sizes, and convicted of the fact. It
appeared on the trial, amongst other
circumstances, that when he arrived
at Carrick, he hired a horse, and a
boy to conduct him, not by the usual
road, but by that which runs on the
north side of the river Suir to Wa-
terford, intending to take his passage
in the first ship from thence to New-
U

142

RKMAKKABLK DRT'.AM.

foundland. The boy took notice of
some blood on his shirt, and Caulfield
gave him half-a-crown to promise not
to speak of it. Rogers proved not
only that Hiekey was seen last in
company with Caulfield, but that a
pair of new shoes which Hiekey wore
had been found on the feet of Caul-
field when he was apprehended ; and
that a pair of old shoes which he had
on at Rogers' house, were upon Mic-
key's feet when the body was found.
He described with great exactness
every article of their clothes. Caul-
field, on the cross examination,
shrewdly asked him from the dock,
whether it was not very extraordina-
ry, that he who kept a public-house
should take such particular notice of
the dress of a stranger accidentally
calling there? Rogers answered that
he had a very particular reason, but
was ashamed to mention it: the court
and prisoner insisting on his declar-
ing it, he gave a circumstantial nar-
rative of his dream, called upon Mr.
Browne, the priest, then in the court,
to corroborate his statement, and said
that his wife had severely reproached
him for permitting Hiekey to leave
their house, when he knew that, in
"the short footway to Carrick, they
must necessarily pass by the green
spot on the mountain which had ap-
peared in his dream. A number of
witnesses came forward, and the
proofs were so strong, that the jury,
without hesitation, found the prison-
er guilty. It was remarked, as a sin-
gularity, that he happened to be tried
and sentenced by his namesake, Saint
George Caulfield, at that time Lord
Chief Justice of the King's Bench,
winch office he resigned in the sum-
mer of the year 1760*.

* Frederick Caulfield was tried and I
found guilty at the Waterford assises, f

After the sentence, Caulfield con-
fessed the fact. It came out that
Hiekey had been in the West Indies
twenty-two years; but falling into a
bad state of health, he was returning
to his native country, Ireland, bring-
ing with him some money, which his
industry had acquired. The vessel
on board which he took his passage
was, by stress of weather, driven in-
to Minehead. He there met with
Frederick Caulfield, an Irish sailor,
who was poor, and much distressed
for clothes and common necessaries.
Hiekey, compassionating his poverty,
and finding that he was his country-
man, relieved his wants, and an in-
timacy commenced between them.
They agreed to go to Ireland toge-
ther, and it was remarked on their
passage, that Caulfield spoke con-
temptuously, and often said it was
a pity that such a puny fellow as
Hiekey should have money, and he
himself be without a shilling. They
landed at Waterford, at which place
they staid some days, Caulfield being
all the time supported by Hiekey,
who there bought some clothes for
him. The assizes being held in the
town during that time, it was after-
wards recollected that they were
both at the court-house, and attend-
ed the whole of a trial of a shoemak-
er, who was convicted for the mur-
der of his wife. But this made no
impression on the hardened mind of
Caulfield; for the very next day he
perpetrated the same crime.

He walked to the gallows with a
firm step and undaunted counte-
nance. He spoke to the multitude

before the Lord Chief Justice Saint
George Caulfield, on July 25, 1 759, and
executed on Wednesday, the 8 th August
following. — Vide The Gentleman's 31a-
gazine for August 1788.

LISE0N AND THE PORTUGUESE.

143

who surrounded him; and in the
course of his address, mentioned that
he had heen bred at a charter-school,
from which he was taken as an ap-
prentice-servant by William Izod,
Esq. of the county of Kilkenny. From
this station he ran away, on being
corrected for some faults, and had
been absent from Ireland six years.
He confessed also, that he intended
to murder Hickey on the road be-
tween Waterford and Portlaw ; but
though it was in general not much
frequented, yet people at that time

continually coming in sight prevented
him.

Being frustrated in all his schemes,
the sudden and total disappointment
threw him, probably, into an indif-
ference for life. Some tempers are
so stubborn and rugged, that nothing
can affect them but immediate sen-
sation. If to this be united the great-
est ignorance, death to such charac-
ters will hardly seem terrible, because
they can form no conception of what
it is, and still less of the consequen-
ces that may follow.

LISBON AND THE PORTUGUESE.

Extracted from Letters written in 1821 and 1822.
(Concluded from p. 8E)

Feb. 1822.

The Portuguese women are short
in stature, almost universally bru-
nettes, and if their faces were not
animated by such beautiful eyes, one
might boldly assert, that they were
rather ordinary than handsome ; but
he who is not deterred at the first
glance by a plain set of features will
find in them many qualities to make
amends for the latter. Fine hair and
teeth, small feet, a majestic gait, vi-
vacity in conversation, readiness at
repartee, a naivete in their demean-
our, which holds a middle course be-
tween a silly or affected prudery and
too great freedom, good natural ta-
lents, especially for music and danc-
ing ; these are qualities which none
will deny them, though a stranger
has but little opportunity to make
himself acquainted with them, unless
at places of public resort, where they
will probably appear to him in a still
more advantageous light. Consider-
ing the little intercourse which the
female sex, and especially the un-

married portion of it, has with the
other, one cannot very often help be-
ing astonished at the ease with which
they behave themselves. If their
conversation revolves around trivial
subjects, this is certainly not to be
charged to their account, but to that
of the men, who know nothing bet-
ter to entertain them with than equi-
voques and double -entendres; and
who, either for want of instruction,
or because they disbelieve the exist-
ence of female virtue, deem this sex
far inferior to their own, and consi-
der its improvement as beneath their
attention.

Throughout civilized Europe there
are not perhaps more unfortunate
wives than the women of Portugal.
The manner in which matches are
made here is not much better than
that prevailing in the East. Here al-
so they are regarded rather in the
light of slaves than free women. It
may be safely asserted, that out of
five marriages, scarcely one is the re-
suit of real mutual affection. Parents
U 2

144

LISBON AND THE PORTUGUESE.

sell their daughters to the wealthy,
and concern themselves very little
about the other qualities of a son-in-
law : a previous acquaintance of the
parties is totally out of the question.
It appears that this practice has long
existed in Portugal; for the Portu-
guese legislature has taken it into
consideration, and confined the au-
thority of parents within the narrow-
est limits. If a suitor solicits the
hand of a young lady, and the pa-
rents refuse their consent, the lover,
provided that he has arranged mat-
ters with his mistress, may obtain the
assistance of justice to remove her
from the house; he then places her
in a convent, or with some female of
his acquaintance, produces evidence
before the court that he is able to
maintain her, and the church dares
not withhold the nuptial benediction,
whether the father assent to it or
not. I have seen many such instan-
ces, and experience teaches that these
marriages are in general happier than
those which are contracted by pa-
rents.

When the sex is treated in such a
despotic, mistrustful, and degrading-
manner as here, it is no wonder that
it should seek opportunities of reta-
liation. While the Portuguese hus-
band scarcely knows conjugal fidelity
even by name, his wife makes not the
least scruple to risk her reputation.
Young females, often by way of pas-
time, and often too in hopes of be-
ing released from parental authority,
ogle every man they see, and return
the salutations of perfect strangers,
totally regardless of the opinion of
their neighbours. The language of
the hands supplies the place of words.
It is quite customary here for a man
who has thus exchanged amorous
glances with a female, either from an

opposite house or from the street, to
send her a billet-doux, though he
may never have spoken to her in his
life ; and it is as common for the la-
dy to return an answer, either fa-
vourable or otherwise, but in gene-
ral a promise of marriage is the con-
dition on which she appoints inter-
views. How many fathers and mo-
thers repent having taught their
daughters to read and write, as the
forming of clandestine connections is
thereby facilitated ! With Argus-eyes
the mother watches her daughters,
when she drives them before her af-
ter mass like a row of organ-pipes,
for the youngest always goes first,
and the rest, be they ever so nume-
rous, follow in rotation singly, never
walking two together. While they
pick their way with incredible skill,
in silk stockings and shoes, through
the mud in the streets, and, with
downcast looks, seem wholly estrang-
ed from earthly thoughts, the young
hypocrites will contrive to conceal in
their bosoms, or perhaps in their
handkerchiefs, the billets, which, in
spite of all their mother's vigilance,
their inamoratos find means to slip
into their hands. Though far from
attempting to justify the Portuguese
females on the score of these secret
connections, still I cannot help ad-
mitting, on the other hand, that they
have frequently no alternative, if they
would not remain all their lives un-
der the paternal roof. Even in com-
pany they have no opportunity what-
ever of conversing with persons of
the other sex ; for their mothers es-
cort them wherever they go.

Foreigners are not in ill repute
with the fair sex at Lisbon ; but the
Portuguese seldom afford them ac-
cess to their houses: indeed hospi-
tality is not one of their virtues. The

MADALKNA.

145

term estrangciro — foreigner — is fre-
quently used in a somewhat contemp-
tuous signification, as if foreigners
were inferior to, or worse than, the
natives. A Brasilian, in whose coun-
try hospitality is more practised,
though the fair sex is kept quite as
much secluded, lately expressed his
astonishment to me at the answer of
a Portuguese, to whose house he had
been invited to see a procession pass
along. " I thought," said the Bra-
silian to his host, " that I should
have brought a foreigner with me,

but ." Without suffering him

to finish, the other replied: " You
did quite right to come without him,
for I have several daughters at home."
The retired life which the fair sex
is destined to lead, whether volunta-
rily or not, has, however, the effect
of producing in the majority domes-
tic virtues, which are more rare in
the principal cities of Spain ; but an
ambition to shine is the more conspi-
cuous in the Portuguese ladies, the

fewer opportunities they have of ap-
pearing in public. It is inconceiva-
ble how many fathers can support the
luxury displayed by the female part
of their families when they go abroad.
Those who are really wealthy are
fond of glistening in diamonds ; but
these are not requisite on all occa-
sions, and a lady of rank is content
with its being publicly known that
she possesses them. On the other
hand, at least one Indian shawl is an
article without which a lady who has
any pretensions to gentility would
feel herself miserable. Among the
women the prevailing fashions are
the French, among the men the Eng-
lish. Whether the former, upon the
whole, dress to advantage, I shall not
pretend to decide ; though if I were
obliged to state my private opinion
on that subject, it would be to the
contrary. Here, as among all south-
ern nations, the women are too fond
of a gaudy variety of colours.

MADALENA. OR THE CONSEQUENCES OF ELOPEMENT.

To our fair readers in early bloom
no service more essential can be ren-
dered, than to assist their inexperi-
ence in discriminating the motives of
their adulators; and Ave would beg
leave to admonish an heiress, before
she allows her imagination to be fas-
cinated by the obsequious blandish-
ments of a swain, whose fine person,
showy accomplishments, and elegant
manners are his sole estate, that she
may spare herself a life of hopeless
misery, by weighing against roman-
tic credulity this sacred truth — that,
in general, no sacrifices are so ill re-
quited as the renunciation of pru-
dence and filial duty, to become the
dependent of a spouse, who, moat

probably, was aiming at wealth, while
he pretended homage to love. A
fine fellow in pursuit of affluence as
the means of commanding pleasures,
and a husband in full possession of
the prize, are two characters distinct
as a fawning sycophant and a despot.
The fate of Madalena Ormond has
numerous parallels. Indeed the feel-
ings and habits of a lady cradled
and reared amidst opulence and re-
finement, and those of a man, who,
since he could act for himself, has
been struggling to support the ap-
pearance of a gentleman, must be so
intrinsically different, not to say dis-
cordant, that manifold causes for dis-
sension may be expected to arise in

146

MADALIiNA.

their conjugal association. To re-
move those contrarieties and assi-
milate their tastes, it would be ne-
cessary for both to new-mould their
long-formed propensities and cus-
toms— a task which few indulged
girls, or selfish men, will be likely to
undertake.

Madalena Ormond was the only
child of a plain uneducated pair,
who, from small beginnings, by cau-
tious speculation and unremitting
frugality, accumulated an immense
fortune; and notwithstanding their
parsimonious habits, they spared no
expense in giving Madalena an edu-
cation suitable to her pecuniary rights,
and to the distinguished endowments
of her person and mind. Yet soon
after she entered her teens, Mr. and
Mrs. Ormond painfully apprehended
they had not only lost all points of
communion with a creature in every
respect so dissimilar, so elevated above
them, but that the dashing, fashion-
able, giddy heiress of all they had
amassed with toilsome anxiety, might
bestow herself and her property upon
some artful pennyless admirer, who
pretended to agree in her high-flown
notions. To deter Madalena from a
foolish marriage would perhaps be
out of the power of a father: he
could, however, take effectual mea-
sures to disappoint the miscreant who
should steal her heart, while he de-
signed to filch her purse.

Indulged at home, caressed and
flattered at school, the aspirings of
Madalena's noble nature had been
excited only to puerile display; till,
in her fifteenth year, she was invited
to spend a vacation at the seat of
Mr. Burlington, where a younger
sister of Lady Susan Burlington also
passed some weeks. Lady Jemima
Milbourne was three years older

than Madalena Ormond: she per-
ceived in the young heiress a gene-
rous and amiable, though misdirect-
ed mind, and without appearing to
reprove, or to dictate, led her to
some perceptions of merit and hap-
piness superior to the ambition of
excelling her schoolfellows as a mu-
sician, a paintress, a dancer, or to
eclipse them in finery. Lady Mel-
bourne was going to the south of
France for the recovery of her health,
and Lady Jemima saw her young
friend no more, until lamentable
changes affected her condition. She
went home to celebrate her fifteenth
birthday, and had been but a short
time returned to the seminary at
Hampstead, when the particular in-
timate of her father came to make
known the sad tidings, that both her
parents had been carried off by a pu-
trid fever ; and the contagion was so
virulent, that they had forbidden
their beloved child to be exposed to
it in taking a last farewell. Not to
have seen her fond father, her idol-
izing mother, before they expired,
was a severe aggravation of Mada-
lena's loss. Her passions were not
violent, but her feelings were sus-
ceptible of poignant and profound
impressions. Mr. Jessop wished her
to accompany him to town for some
months ; but the governess, Mrs.
Gilman, represented to him the dan-
ger of infection from the malady
which had proved fatal to Mr. and
Mrs. Ormond, and which still raged
in London; and she assured him of
her utmost endeavours to sooth and
exhilarate the mind of her charming
pupil. Mrs. Gilman literally per-
formed this engagement, and a ne-
phew of her late husband's was the
most conspicuous personage in all the
musical entertainments, or rural ex~

MADAL.F.NA.

147

cursions, intended to amuse the heir-
ess. Captain Gilman was about the
age of thirty; and if a faultless form,
with the most beautiful features,
adorned by insinuating manners and
graceful accomplishments, were sure
indexes of merit, we might congra-
tulate Madalena on her conquest.
He had been educated for the medi-
cal profession, and attended a young
invalid nobleman on his travels. The
-constitution of the titled traveller was
supposed to have benefited much
through Mr. Gilman's prescriptions
and assiduous care; but averse to
the fatigues that must be endured by
a general practitioner, Gilman ac-
cepted a commission in the army, and
had repeatedly been distinguished in
military exploits.

Madalena's grief, composed and
inobtrusive, preyed upon her health,
and Captain Gilman recommended
the most palatable medicaments to
restore the lovely roseate of her com-
plexion : he would intrust the minis-
tration of cordials to no other hand;
^he ascribed her convalescence to
his skill and attention, and he had
continual access to his fair patient.
We shall not deform and debase our
pages by enumerating the artifices
Gilman employed in making himself
necessary to the happiness of an in-
experienced girl; it will be enough
to say, that the term of mourning
for her parents was not half expired,
when he convinced her that his pro-
longed existence depended upon her
condescending to accept his nuptial
vows. His regiment was under or-
ders for foreign service, and unless
his martial ardour should be restrain-
ed by calling the angelic Madalena
his own, he would, as formerly, vo-
lunteer on every post of extreme
danger ; and since without her life

must be insupportable, he would
seek death as the only remedy for
his woes. Madalena, weeping, trem-
bling, and overwhelmed by tumultu-
ous emotions of tenderness and ap-
prehension, was enticed by her lover
to elope with him, and her destiny
was fixed before her guardian, Mr.
Jessop, overtook her at Edinburgh.

Gilman was now lord paramount
of the heiress : he inquired of Mr.
Jessop what allowance she was to
have during her minority; and Mr.
Jessop produced a duplicate of Mr.
Ormond's last will, from which he
read : " If my daughter Madalena
Ormond shall not marry with the full
consent and in presence of her sur-
viving guardian, her income shall be
limited to two thousand pounds per
annum, to be paid to her quarterly;
with an increase of five hundred
pounds per annum for each livino-
child born by my said daughter;
and all the said sums shall be for
her own use and at her disposal.
The remaining property, of whatever
kind, shall continue under the ma-
nagement of my executors, to accu-
mulate for the child or children of
my daughter Madalena Ormond un-
til they are of age."

Gilman's face was in a glow of
rage, but he commanded himself to
say, " And if my Madalena shall
have no children, will she not have a
right to dispose of her inheritance?"

Mr. Jessop again read : " If Ma-
dalena Ormond, my foresaid daugh-
ter, shall die without heirs of her
own body, the whole amount of my
effects shall be vested in the follow-
ing-institutions: Three-fifths shall be
appropriated for storing grain to re-
lieve the poor in times of scarcity;
one-fifth shall be paid into the funds
of the Guardian Society; and the

148

MADALKNA.

other fifth applied to establish cheap
libraries, adapted for the lower or-
ders within the city and liberties of
London and Westminster. The sa-
gacious friend who advised this be-
quest has convinced me, that if the
rule and direction of low-priced pam-
phlets belonged to one individual,
he might sway the public mind to
good or evil ; and the regulation of
instruments so powerful should not
be left to chance, but ordered and
controuled by the piety and wisdom
of leading members of the commu-
nity."

Gilman's politeness with difficulty
constrained him to forbear interrupt-
ing Mr. Jessop. He seized the first
pause, to inquire if Mr. Ormond's
will restricted his daughter in case
she became a widow. Mr. Jessop
replied by reading from the dupli-
cate: "If MadalenaOrmond becomes
a widow, her whole fortune shall re-
vert to her own disposal. One rash
marriage seldom fails to provide ca-
veats to prevent a second folly."

Gilman blustered; but Mr. Jessop
coolly reminded him, that the para-
graph was read in answer to his own
queries ; and as this mild explanation
seemed but to encourage the stormy
passions of the benedict, Mr. Jessop
shewed him, that a sober citizen, with-
out going further than the Exchange
or Temple- Bar to learn how the equi-
poise between individual dignity and
respect to others should be adjusted,
was fully competent to assert his man-
hood, though unaided by the phra-
seology or graces of high fashion.
Madalena, in sorrowful alarm, inter-
posed; but saw with secret anguish
that the ceremony of marriage had
taken from her the power of moving
by a look, or a few words, her arbi-
trary spouse — a power she had fondly

hoped for ever to retain, and which
one little week had, alas! destroyed.
Gilman, in a harsh voice, told her he
had no time for foolery; he must re-
turn to head-quarters with the ut-
most expedition. This excuse for
abruptly leaving Mr. Jessop proved
true. They travelled post to head-
quarters, and Gilman waited on the
commanding officer just as he re-
ceived the route to Portsmouth for
immediate embarkation. On the jour-
ney, Gilman apologized to his wife
for the irascibility he had shewn, and
obtained from her a considerable sum
Mr. Jessop gave her, as due of her
usual allowance for pocket-money.
At his return to their lodgings, he
apprized her of the orders to em-
bark; but mitigated her distress, by
a proposal for accompanying him to
Portsmouth, where, perhaps, they
might be weeks detained by adverse
winds, and even the embarkation
countermanded.

Alighting at an inn on their way,
Mrs. Gilman recognised Lady Mel-
bourne's coach. Lady Jemima Mel-
bourne observed her from a window,
hurried down stairs, and warmly em-
braced her in the lobby ; but her la-
dyship changed countenance when
Madalena introduced Captain Gil-
man as her husband. However, she
conducted both to Lady Melbourne,
and they were invited by her lady-
ship to dine with her. While they
retired to dress, the countess and
her daughter expressed to each other
their regrets for Madalena's impru-
dent marriage, and Lady Melbourne
said she was too young and too vola-
II tile to have an establishment of her
own during Gilman's absence. Her
unreasonable fastidious dislike of her
father's worthy city friends would
expose her to tin: triumphant artifice

MADALENA.

149

of unsafe acquaintances; her beauty,
brilliant manners, and desire for ad-
miration must add to the danger:
she would be an agreeable guest at
Melbourne Priory, and a residence
there might preserve her from en-
snarers. Lady Jemima assented with
joy, and the reappearance of Mr. and
Mrs. Gilman put a period to the sub-
ject of conversation.

The influence and example of the
ladies at Melbourne Priory led Mrs.
Gilman to perceive the improprieties
and risks attending giddy vivacity,
and anxious thoughts about Gilman
helped to dispose her for rational con-
sideration. Each day brought a more
salutary development of her excel-
lent dispositions and fine understand-
ing; and when Gilman returned from
Egypt, deprived of sight by the oph-
thalmia, she became eyes to the blind;
a guide, a support, and agent in bu-
siness for the helpless ; assuaging his
impatience, and exerting her varied
attainments to amuse his fretful de-
spondency. He recovered the visu-
al faculty ; but the birth of a still-
born son brought Mrs. Gilman to
the verge of the grave. Before her
recovery, Gilman purchased the ma-
jority of his regiment, and Mrs. Gil-
man had the pain of observing, that
his medical skill was no longer at
her service. He left her to the care
of physicians and nurses, while he
and his cousin, Miss Jervas, rode out
together on favourable days, or play-
ed chess and read novels, if rain con-
fined them within doors. Miss Jer-
vas was said to be fourteen when
she came to visit Mrs. Gilman. Her
tall, well-formed figure might be the
growth of more years, but her child-
ish simplicity, sportive restlessness,
and intemperate gaiety were more
Vol. III. No. XV.

suitable for half her reputed age.
In showy attainments she was not de-
ficient ; and Mrs. Gilman hoped she
could contribute in remedying the
glaring defects in her moral and men-
tal education, as Lady Melbourne
and her daughter had conferred on
herself an inestimable benefit of the
same tendency.

The regiment was ordered to Na-
ts

pies, and Gilman seemed to rejoice
that in a warmer climate his Mada-
lena's constitution might be renovated.
In her presence, but without consult-
ing her, he asked Miss Jervas to ac-
company them to Italy. The climate
of Naples was speedily beneficial to
Mrs. Gilman's health ; yet, soon after
she was able to mix in society, a new
and bitter sorrow preyed on her
spirits. She saw proofs on proofs
that Gilman was more successful in
misleading, than she could be in guid-
ing, the unprincipled Miss Jervas to
amend her foibles. Though she en-
deavoured to save the infatuated
young creature from utter ruin, and
her husband from a criminal entan-
glement, she uniformly disdained and
avoided the prying inquisitiveness of
jealousy, nor did one upbraiding
look or word provoke Gilman's un-
kindness. The British troops were
ordered to Sicily ; and, in a strange
place, Madalena suffered contumely
and insult in every shape that could
assail a wife, who in private scru-
pulously guarded against contention,
and in public studied to throw a
veil of decorum over the profligacy,
which all her gentle vigilance, all her
enduring sweetness could not pre-
vent. Not to think of her wrongs
was impossible; but how to think of
them, and how to act, she stedfastly
submitted to the unappealable in-
X

150

TUB DRILLED GOBLINS.

junctions of duty. She did not deem
Major Gilman's crime an exonera-
tion from conjugal forbearance ; but
she considered also what was due to
herself; and assigning as the cause
for seclusion a recurrence of some of
the ailments she suffered in England,
she averted the degradation of ap-
pearing in public with a girl who had
forfeited all right to unblemished so-
ciety. Major Gilman often applied
to her for the money she saved in
retirement, and never was refused
the accommodation; yet her heart
was wrung to think that the expendi-
ture would be grossly vicious.

Lady Melbourne employed her in-
terest for promotion to the husband
of her favourite, which, with his va-
lour and conduct at the battle of
Maida, procured him the rank of
lieutenant-colonel. His intellectual
superiority, his finished education,
insinuating address, and professional
renown, made him acceptable in the
highest and best informed circles.
The plaudits of news-writers in Eng-
land spread his fame as an officer,
and echoed the voice of Sicilian no-
bles, who extolled his graces, and
prided themselves in being reputed
his intimates. The ladies sung verses
in his praise; and the populace al-
most worshipped a hero, whose affa-
bility, with elegant ease, descended
to the very lowest that approached
him. Speaking their language with
fluency, Colonel Gilman often gained
from the too much despised labourer
or mendicant intelligence which di-
rected his judgment, and entitled him

to ascendency in military councils.
More than one artist entreated leave
to take from his face and person the
most perfect models of manly beauty ;
and in most questions regarding war-
like, erudite, or scientific affairs, the
opinion of Colonel Gilman was quot-
ed as ulterior authority. But the
large and splendid space he filled in
the public eye was at home changed
to a gloomy paramo, frigid, barren,
and tempestuous.

The delightful creature in gay par-
ties is not always the most pleasant
and endearing master of a family.
Colonel Gilman was a tyrant to the
best of wives, who raised him to af-
fluence; he was the seducer of a
weak-minded, puerile relation; a
gambler; the slave of convivial ex-
cess, and of all the vices that follow
inebriety. The pure heart of Ma-
dalena revolted at the most sacred
affinity to an audacious libertine, and
she dared not ask herself, if she still
loved the man she must cease to es-
teem; but the consciousness of re-
pentance for her ill-advised marriage
superseded all further inquiry into
her feelings, and she shuddered at
the conviction, that the character of
her husband was repugnant to all,
she held dear and venerable in rec-
titude and religion. In her twen-
tieth year, with all the advantages of
beauty and fortune, one rash step
had made life to her comfortless and
desolate; and her afflictions were of
a nature that forbade complaint, or
the relief afforded by sympathy*
(To be continued.)

GHOST STORIES.— No. V.

THK DRILLED GOBLINS.

When Lieutenant-GeneraldePen- had received near Breslau, belonged

navaire of the Prussian army, who
died in 1759 of a wound which he

to the regiment of cuirassiers, he
had occasion, while in quarters, to

THE DRILLED GOBLINS.

151

form an acquaintance with a goblin
pair. The following authenticated
statement of this adventure is the
more remarkable, as it proves that
spirits cannot whollydivest themselves
of earthly propensities.

Early one morning Major de Pen-
navaire rang his bell for his valet.
It was a considerable time before he
answered the summons, and when
he did appear, he looked like a man
in a high fever. Being asked why he
had staid so long, and not come at
the first call, he replied, that a Ko-
bold had almost worried him to death.
This goblin, according to his account,
had, the preceding evening, when
he had gone into the garret to fetch
a saddle, appeared to him, first large,
then small, and with eyes like flames
of fire: it had seized him with such
violence as if it would have torn him
piecemeal, a fact which the black
spots on his arms sufficiently attest-
ed. He added, that he had indeed
tried to defend himself, but against
so formidable a being resistance was
equally dangerous and unavailing.

Thus far the major, who was a
Frenchman by birth, had listened
quietly ; but, with a smile, he now be-
gan in his broken German, the lu-
dicrous effect of which cannot of
course be communicated to any trans-
lation: " Harkee, Jean, thou art
an addle-headed fellow: thy brains are
full of Kobolds, or thou art a down-
right liar. I have never yet met with
any goblins in my quarters. Thou
must have been in thy cups yester-
day, and then dreamt all this stupid
stuff."

John. Begging your pardon, sir, I
was as sober as your honour always is.

Major. Ha ! rogue, hold thy tongue !
I do get fuddled too now and then.
But proceed with thy story.

John (shewing the black spots on
his arms). Look here, sir! Here are
proofs that I have not been dream-
ing, but that I have really been tac-
kled by the goblin.

Major. Pooh ! nonsense ! If there
be such a thing as a ghost, it cannot
gripe one — a ghost has not flesh and
bone — if it can gripe, it must have a
body too.

John could not comprehend this
reasoning: at any rate he was less
disposed to believe it than his senses,
which had too painfully convinced
him of the existence of a griping gob-
lin. He appealed moreover to the
testimony of the coachman, that the
garrets of the house were actually
haunted. The latter, a courageous
fellow, who would not have hesitated
at the command of hismaster to grap-
ple old Beelzebub himself, declared,
that it was impossible to question the
fact of the house being haunted by
a goblin, which could at pleasure
make itself large or small; adding,
that he knew it, but was not afraid of
it, since it had never seized and grip-
ed him as it had done his fellow-ser-
vant.

At this confirmation the major
stormed furiously against his coward-
ly and superstitious rascals, and swore
that " he would not suffer a Kobold
which could make itself large or
small to remain in his house, but
would send it packing to h — 11." He
was the more seriously bent on ful-
filling this intention, as he learned,
to his no small vexation, that the
story of his house being haunted had
already spread throughout the whole
town, and, as is generally the case,
had received many wonderful addi-
tions.

Accordingly, at an hour when the
goblin was accustomed to play its
X g

\te

I'AIUSIAN GAMBLING-HOUSE DINNER.

pranks, the resolute major, without
saying a word to any one, but pro-
vided with a brace of loaded pistols,
repaired to the haunted spot, and
actually found what he hoped to en-
counter. A fearful figure, in white,
was cowering in a dark corner behind
a chimney. Our hero could distinct-
ly discern only just enough to be
satisfied that it was not a human be-
ing ; because, though seated, it was
taller than the flugleman of his com-
pany. " Haha!" said he, " this must
certainly be Monsieur Kobold ! Come
forward, Monsieur Kobold!"

The spectre did not think fit to
obey the injunction, but the major,
to give weight to his command, de-
clared, that unless the figure instant-
ly complied, he would certainly fire.
No sooner had the goblin received
the second summons coupled with
this menace, than, struck by the ma-
jor's resolute air, it sprung forth from
its dark retreat, and endeavoured to
escape its disturber by flight. The
cry of " Halt! or 111 fire!" soon,
however, arrested its steps. — " Now,
harkee, Monsieur Kobold,make your-
self grand!" The gigantic figure
accordingly increased its prodigious

dimensions, but not till the impatient
major had cried, " If you not make
yourself grand, I pepper you sound-
ly!"— Of course the next experiment
was the making petit — and these al-
ternate orders were repeated with-
out intermission. " 'Tis a truly co-
mical ghost!" said the major to him-
self, laughing: — " it can make itself
grand and petit — let's now drill it a
bit."

During this exercise the officer
fancied that he could perceive an-
other goblin-like shape in the obscure
corner, " Halt!" he all at once ex-
claimed : " where Monsieur Kobold
is, there must surely be Madame
Koboldine too." The major guess-
ed perfectly right. The Koboldine,
enveloped in a white sheet, was like-
wise obliged to come forward, and as
she too understood the art of mak-
ing herself large and small, she had
to go through the same course of
discipline as her mate. It was one
of the maid-servants who had assum-
ed this disguise, to favour certain pri-
vate interviews with the major'scoach-
man, the natural consequence of which
was, that in due time she presented
the world with a little Kobold.

PARISIAN GAMBLING-HOUSE DINNER.

Men of business commonly ima- graphers, by means of compass and

gine that the studious know nothing
of life : they regard us as a species
of nightingales, who are out of their
element unless in solitude and dark-
ness. I must own that I was loner
of this opinion myself; and it was a
real consolation to me to discover,
that after all I was not so excessively
learned. I have been thoroughly
cured of this notion, however, since
I have been at Paris. I have con-
vinced myself, that we general geo-

the stars, find the pathways through
the great world with more ease than
your men of business with their spe-
cial map can find the high-roads.
Provided with a stock of philosophi-
cal knowledge, I contrived, notwith-
standing my youth, to avoid all the
snares of sharpers, and to withstand
the allurements of pleasure. Many
of my countrymen who boast of their
knowledge of the world have not
been so fortunate.

PARISIAN GAMHLINjG-HOUSK DINNER.

153

Mr. Corduroy, a rich Manchester
manufacturer, of my acquaintance,
was one clay extolling his laquai de
place, whom he described as the
most honest fellow in the world. I
came, heard, and on philosophical
grounds concluded that the fellow
was a rogue. When a young man,
he had assisted in storming the Bas-
tille; during the Revolution, includ-
ing the imperial reign, he had been
successively a coachman, friseur, wa-
ter-carrier, porter, and commissio-
naire; but since the Restoration he
had followed the profession of a lac-
quey. Though fifty-six years old,
he was still brimful of sentimentality.
He declared, that the aim of all his
exertions was to save so much money
as would enable him to retire to the
lovely village which gave him birth
on the banks of the Loire, that he
might there end his days far from
the vices and depravity of Paris. He
described to my friend all the various
species of dissipation to be found in
that dissipated capital, in order to
warn him against them. He could
not in particular depict the gambling-
houses and those who frequented
them in colours sufficiently black,
and deplored the culpable means em-
ployed to lead strangers into ruin.
He related, among other things, that
at one of these establishments there
was kept an open table twice a week
for strangers, who were there right
royally entertained. The magnifi-
cence of his description piqued the
curiosity of his employer, who ex-
pressed a strong desire to dine for
once at this decoy-house. The ho-
nest lacquey shrugged his shoulders,
as a silent intimation of his danger.
Next day, however,, my friend re-
ceived a polite invitation to dinner
from the directors of the house in

question, inclosing tickets of admis-
sion for himself and two others. He
requested me to accompany him.
About five o'clock in the afternoon
we repaired to the hotel in question.
With the confidence with which a
virtuous man faces villains, I entered
the house, that might with greater
propriety be termed a palace. But —
what a fool is man ! and how easily
is he dazzled by the grossest delu-
sions!— such was the gravity, the so-
lemnity, the decorum which pervad-
ed this temple of Fortune, that I
soon forgot the humour in which I
had come, and was thrown for some
hours into the greatest embarrass-
ment. I fancied myself at the court
of Philip II. and it required the aid
of the champagne and other ge-
nerous wines to restore to me all my
self-possession.

We began indeed to feel some
qualms in the street before we en-
tered the hotel. The most brilliant
equipage, with tall yagers behind,
drove up, and set down persons de-
corated with stars and ribbons. We
were the only pedesti'ians. The por-
ter, as we passed his lodge, inquired
our business. We replied, that we
had come to dinner. The porter
smiled, and said, that no dinners were
given here. My conductor shewed
his tickets, and we were allowed to
proceed. We entered an apartment
on the ground-floor, where a dozen
insolent menials were playing their
wanton pranks. Mr. C. asked where
the company dined. " Not here,"
was the reply. We left the place,
and went up one pair of stairs, where
at length we found the dining-room.
My companion inquired of the at-
tendants, who were engaged in lay-
inf the table, when dinner would be
ready ; but the scoundrels gave him

154

PARISIAN GAMBLING-HOUSE DINNEU.

no answer. We went down again
,to the servants' hall. Being again
asked our business, the tickets of ad-
mission were once more produced,
on which one of these gentry took
charge of our hats, and conducted
us to the company. On entering, I
remarked that several of its members
looked gravely at my feet, and I per-
ceived with consternation that I was
the only one of the party who ap-
peared in boots. I took a seat at a
table on which lay several ultra news-
papers, for the purpose of conceal-
ing my legs. After conning these
journals for some time, a tall portly
man, of a majestic figure, which re-
minded me of the description of Louis
XIV. came up to me, and inquired
who I was, and what was my plea-
sure. The chin of this personage
was buried in his cravat, which was
a bad sign: for those who are en-
gaged in the study of mankind may
take it for a rule, that people who
muffle up their chins in cravats are
to be trusted very little, if at all. I
was instantly aware of my ticklish si-
tuation, and had the presence of mind
to pretend not to understand him.
As, however, it was absolutely ne-
cessary to give him some answer, I
determined to reply in a language
which he did not understand. But
what language was that to be ? The
generality of Frenchmen indeed know
none but their mother tongue, but
gamblers are cosmopolites, they are
polyglots. I therefore hastily dished
up for him a lingual ragout, com-
pounded of our English Sir, the
German Herr, and the Italian Sig-
noro. This olla podrida produced
the desired effect. The grand point
namely was, to gain time till my Man-
chester friend, who had just left the
room, should return. At length he

entered, and with pantomimic ges-
tures I gave the inquirer to under-
stand, that this was the man who
could furnish satisfactory information
concerning me. The portly gentle-
man— a marquis, as I afterwards
learned, who is appointed by the so-
ciety to which the house belongs, to
do the honours of it — then asked my
companion, who with several bows
explained that he had brought me
with him, who he was himself. My
friend gave his name. The marquis
replied, that he had not the honour
of his acquaintance ; on which Mr.
Corduroy for the third time produced
his ticket. The marquis then bade
us welcome, and on learning that we
were English, observed that he too
had once been in London.

We were presently summoned to
dinner. During my continental tour
I had certainly seen several German
courts at table, but I had only a
bird's-eye view of them from the
gallery. This was the first time that
I had actually partaken of so sump-
tuous an entertainment. Well might
it be denominated royal. Luckily
I was not that day in a sentimental
mood, otherwise I should not have
been able to taste a morsel. I should
have fancied that all these dishes
were steeped in blood and tears shed
by the despairing wretches and sui-
cides who are daily plundered in the
gambling-houses of Paris. I must,
however, observe, that the whole
party seemed to have excellent ap-
petites, which was a pleasing sign of
some remains of virtue ; for consum-
mate gamblers and sharpers live, it
is well known, like anchorets, and eat
and drink sparingly.

At the centre of the oval table
was seated the marquis and master
of the ceremonies, alike surpassing

PARISIAN GAMBLING-HOUSE DINNER.

163

all in majesty of person and dignity
of demeanour. During the whole
repast, his aids-de-camp were inces-
santly bringing him dispatches of all
sizes, from duodecimo to the largest
folio, with seals of corresponding di-
mensions. The marquis opened them,
perused them without moving a mus-
cle, and then handed them to a foot-
man who stood behind him. It had
the air all around him of a general's
head-quarters. I asked my philoso-
phy the meaning of this brisk corre-
spondence. It replied, that these
were innocent love-letters which the
police exchanged with the marquis;
for, be it remarked, the former is on
the most friendly terms with the di-
rectors of the establishment, and they
communicate to each other the result
of their anthropological observations.
For the rest, the conversation at ta-
ble was dull enough, and I could
not help quizzing the company in
my own mind by way of pastime.

Dinner over, and having taken
coffee, play began. My Manches-
ter friend whispered me, that we
could not certainly have dined any
where in such style as we had done
under fifty francs, and it would be
exceedingly indelicate if one of us at
least did not join in the game. I re-
plied, " that if he chose to be deli-
cate I could have no objection, but
that I would not play," My compa-
nion accordingly took his seat at the
table, and carried his delicacy to such
a length, that he lost twelve hundred
francs. Meanwhile, I had occasion
to confirm observations which I had
previously made on games of chance.
The first is, that the gravity pre-
served by the keepers of the bank
while following their rascally occu-
pation is quite intolerable. They
might sport a joke now and then : the

most venomous serpents have at least
a beautiful skin. But in fact this pro-
voking gravity is one of the mortal
sins in which the innate demon of ar-
rogance speaks most distinctly. Most
assuredly, the ancient Roman sena-
tors, when the Gauls were before
their gates, could not have assumed
a more important mien, than a pet-
ty clerk in a passport-office puts on
when he takes down a description of
your person. This importance was
always particularly obnoxious to me
in bankers and other commercial men.
To count and make money, and to
calculate the profit, is to be sure a
very cheerful business ; but there is
nothing sublime in it, and I cannot
conceive why those gentlemen should,
assume such a pompous and imposing
look. The second reflection which
I am accustomed to make at tables
where games of chance are played is
this: If all the energy and passion,
the emotions and exertions, the hopes
and fears, the nocturnal vigils, the
joys and sorrows, which are annually
squandered throughout Europe at
the gaming-table; if all these were
spared, would they suffice to form a
Roman people and a Roman history?
But there's the rub! Because every
man is born as a Roman, civil society
seeks to unromanize him; and there-
fore we have games of hazard, and
novels, and Italian operas, and mas-
querades, and lotteries, and routs, and
attendances, and ceremonies, and the
fifteen or twenty articles of dress,
which, with salutary loss of time, we
have daily to put on and off — there-
fore are all these things introduced,
that the exuberant energies may in-
sensibly evaporate. Fortunately, men
havenot succeeded in doing that with
Nature which they have accomplish-
ed with their own kind; otherwise

156

THE COMPLAINTS OF A HALF-PAY OFFICER.

they would long since have dribbled
away the ocean in fountains, and frit-
tered away volcanoes in Chinese fire-
works, that they might have no more
to apprehend from tempests and
lava!

We returned home; I, refreshed
in body and mind, but my companion
exceedingly out of humour. He re-
lated to his honest lacquey what ill-
luck he had experienced. This af-
forded me a fresh occasion for ob-
serving what amiable creatures the
French are. A pedantic English
moralist, who, like this laquai de
place, had warned my friend to be-
ware of gamblers, would have loaded
him with reproaches, had he disre-
garded this warning, and thereby
sustained loss, and would have said,
" It serves you right! Why did you
not follow my advice?" Our gene-
rous lacquey pursued a very differ-
ent course. At first, after my coun-
tryman's recital of his misfortune, he
smiled without saying a word, proba-
bly calculating in silence the amount
of the commission he was to receive
from the directors of the gambling-
house. He then merely observed,
" Don't fret, sir! you will have better
luck another time." By way of cheer-
ing up his spirits, he related several
anecdotes of gamblers, and among
others the following: The marquis
above-mentioned, formerly an emi-
grant, and who returned to France
a beggar at the Restoration, had the
good fortune to marry a rich wife. In
one night he lost all he was worth at

play: at length he staked his wife's
country-seat against an Englishman,
and lost that too. The winner post-
ed away immediately from the gam-
ing-table in the middle of the night
to the estate, four leagues distant
from Paris, and very early in the
morning rang violently at the bell of
the house. The dogs barked furi-
ously, and the gardener inquired
what was his business at so early an
hour. Regardless alike of dogs and
men, the intruder proceeded at his
leisure to inspect the premises. The
gardener at length began to be rude ;
on which the Englishman seized him
by the collar, and tumbled him out
of the house, with this valediction :
" Go to the d — 1! I have no occa-
sion for you." The marchioness,
roused by the scuffle, ran down stairs
in a great fright, half dressed, and
inquired of the stranger what was
his pleasure. He replied, that he
was merely come to take a walk in
his pai'k, and at the same time shew-
ed her the paper by which the mar-
quis ceded to him the estate. The
unhappy woman died soon after-
wards of a broken heart. The di-
rectors of the gambling-house, how-
ever, behaved very generously to the
marquis, as they sometimes do to
their victims, and appointed him to
do the honours of that house, with a
salary of one hundred francs a day.
What effect this story had on the
mind of my friend I know not. It
was very late : we shook hands and
parted.

THE COMPLAINTS OF A HALF-PAY OFFICER;

Or, Was it so Twenty Years ago ?

" Oh! the charms of a country
town!" I exclaimed as I reclined in
my easy chair after dinner. " The

same eternal park-chaise has passed
my door at least half-a-dozen times
within this half-hour. There must

THE COMPLAINTS OF A HALF-PAY OFFICF.lt.

157

be a ball in the town. I'll ring and
inquire. Betty, what is there going
on in the town this evening?" — " La,
sir! don't you know? There's a ball
given by the officers of the regiment
to-night." — " Bless my soul ! now I re-
collect, I had a ticket put into my
hand by Captain Clatterheel the other
day at the billiard-table, and I dare
say it has lain in my great-coat poc-
ket ever since." The pocket was
searched, and forth came the ticket.
I had not been at an English ball for
near twenty years, having been most
part of that time on foreign service.
I was quite unused to these things,
but I was taken by surprise, and half
promised the captain; so I resolved
to go, if it was only for the novelty
of the thing.

Forthwith the black breeches and
silk stockings are paraded (the latter
being carefully examined by Betty),
a waistcoat of superior whiteness se-
lected from my scanty wardrobe, and
the whole well aired ; for as my Pen-
insular anecdotes had become stale,
and as I had neither wit nor blarney
to supply their place, these requisites
for a dinner or an evening party had
long slumbered in ignoble repose.
The nether vestments, as I released
them from their confinement, me-
thought, assumed a fresher look than
when I last drew them on; and the
waistcoat, whose wrinkles had not for
so long a period been smoothed by
the good fare of a rich neighbour,
seemed, unconscious of its antique
cut, to brighten up at the idea of
again appearing in the ranks of fa-
shion. But, alas! their owner did
not appear the fresher or the young-
er for lying by! Time had left its
crow's-foot traces on his visage; the j
autumnal tints of life had already be-

loLIII. No. XV.

speckled his head; and his frame
could no longer boast the charms of
true proportion. The waistcoat and
its neighbour required to be slack-
ened ere they could be brought to
fit the increased dimensions of my
waist, and what were once such inti-
mate friends seemed now quite on
distant terms. This breach it re-
required no small effort to restore;
for the shirt, not content with dis-
playing the glories of the washtub in
the dogs-ears and frill, seemed deter-
mined, like an officious go-between,
if possible, to perpetuate the unfor-
tunate separation; while, to increase
the general discordance, the coat,
taking its example from man, and
proving its ignoble birth (for it owed
its existence to a country Snip), by
the airs it assumed, appeared, with a
vulgarity truly provincial, to look
down with contempt on the more un-
fashionable companions with which
necessity had compelled it to associ-
ate. The stockings alone appeared
quite at ease ; they seemed to light
up with superior gloss as they again
found themselves at home on that
limb which used to set all hearts on
fire, and which yet stood forth in all
the pride of manly beauty. In a
twinkling I am dressed; for, thanks
to the present fashion, all the trou-
ble of ornamenting the person is mo-
nopolized by the fair sex, or by that
non-descript, the dandy, which can
be considered as of no sex at all.

Without considering the fashion
of my dress, or that I was almost
past the age for dancing, I entered
the ball-room with the confidence,
and, I trust, the air of a gentleman,
though not of the modern school,
where the Mandarin of a grocer's win-
dow is permitted to set the fashion

158

THE COMPLAINTS OF A HALF-PAY OETIC13K.

of a bow. The room was nearly
full, but the dancing had not com-
menced. As all eyes were naturally
turned towards the door to criticize
and pull to pieces the comers-in, I
could not of course escape the no-
tice of the company. Of those who
knew me, some recognised me with
a slight inclination of the head, others
turned their eyes another way, and
some tittered and exchanged looks.
Those who knew me not I could
perceive made interrogatories, in the
answers to which I could distinguish
the word " only," which magical
sound effectually prevented a second
look from those eyes which, I could
observe, often rested on persons
whose sole attractions were a title or
a fortune. There is something won-
derfully bewitching in rank and riches;
for, with all my philosophy, I con-
fess I never heard that a man had
ten thousand a year or a title with-
out taking a second look at him. I
leave those with more reflection than
myself to account for this feeling.
The striking up of a quadrille an-
nounced the preparation for the
dance. As I used to be esteemed a
good dancer, and had once figured
in the native country of the quadrille,
I thought myself privileged to stand
up. There was a time when I ge-
nerally selected the plainest partner
in the room. Whether this proceed-
ed from vanity in shewing the con-
trast between their deformity and
my handsome person, or whether it
arose from a feeling of pity springing
from a naturally kind disposition, or
whether a mixture of both these
causes might have influenced me, 1
leave others to guess. Now, how-
ever, I found the case altered. I felt
a desire to dance with the prettiest
and most distinguished partner in

the room. Can twenty years have
made this revolution in my inclina-
tions ? I began, therefore, at the tip-
top of beauty and fashion, and de-
scended in a regular ratio till I reach-
ed that term of the series when I
thought I ought to stop. But all
were engaged, and for the whole'
night. Time was when I did not
find the ladies so deeply engaged.
Can twenty years have made such a
difference? This reflection was fol-
lowed by a sudden rising in my throat,
but I gulped it down with a sigh.
" Wimporte! I will not dance, I will
observe." My eyes were naturally
attracted to a handsome couple, who
danced extremely well. I expected
to find all the optics in the same di-
rection as my own; but, ho! they
were pointed towards a pair who
were excessively plain, and danced
most abominably. Surely, thought I,
they are looking at these people, and
wondering how they can make such
fools of themselves; for what else
can make them turn from beauty and
grace to deformity and awkwardness?
A whisper from a brother demie-
solde told me the cause. The couple
I admired were poor " airy nothings,"
with scarce " a local habitation or a
name," for they had neither posses-
sions nor rank. They were in fact,
according to the modern phraseolo-
gy, nobodies. The others were good
solid somebodies, whom every one
knew, pretended to know, or wished
to know, and possessing " local habi-
tations" of no mean value or extent,
and names of high sound and import.
" But that very fat lady," said I,
" who dances with such agility, and
attracts so much notice, surely she
is somebody of consequence?"—" You
are mistaken," said my friend; " she
is the least body in the room. They

THE COMPLAINTS OF A HALF-PAY OFFICER.

159

are only quizzing her. Indeed, not-
withstanding her apparent great size,
so diminutive a body is she, that
yonder dandy cannot see her without
using his magnifying glass." Have

c? o J fry o

twenty years, thought I, raised up
this distinction between somebody
and nobody?

The regiment which gave the ball
had been at Waterloo. Medals in
abundance depended from the but-
ton-holes of the officers. A stripling,
who had never seen a shot fired till
that day, and of course none since,
wore one dangling at his breast. I
had served through the whole Pen-
insular war; I had been thrice wound-
ed; I had my constitution shatter-
ed, and was still only a half-pay cap-
tain, without any badge of distinction
or merit. Without wishing to de-
tract from the glory of the gallant
army which achieved the downfall of
the tyrant, I confess I felt mortified
and dissatisfied, I might almost say
disgusted. Here again I felt a rising
in my throat, but I gulped it down
as well as I could.

From such unpleasant reflections,
I sought relief in the eyes of the fair.
But, alas! those eyes shone not for
me! I never encountered them, but
they turned away, as if they scorned
to waste their beams on such an ob-
ject as a poor half-pay officer. I be-
gan to feel that I too was nobody. I
then turned to examine the counte-
nances of the fair, which I could the
better do, as the sentinels, the eyes,
were off their post. I could there
perceive exultation, pride, hope, and
occasionally a glimpse of joy, but it
was the joy of triumph. I could see
abundance of envy, mortification, and
disappointment, mostly skinned over
by a smile. But, except in the beam-
ing eyes of a- mother as they follow-

ed a daughter through the mazes of
the dance, I could no where see hap-
piness or satisfaction. I thought I
recollected that a ball-room was the
very focus of pleasure; at least, my
youthful anticipations had often told
me so, and I stopped not to consider
whether they had been realized. Is
then the world so changed within
twenty years ? thought I. I lere I must
do my own sex the justice to say,
that a better feeling seemed to ani-
mate them. There was among them,
to be sure, abundance of vanity and
affectation, but few of those angry
feelings which I observed to ruffle
the bosoms of the softer sex. A lit-
tle reflection told me the cause of this
difference. Man's scene of action
lies not in a ball-room. In general,
he attends it merely as a pastime ; but
woman has more serious business
there. It is the arena wherein she
tries her strength, and where her fate
in life is but too often decided. If
outdone in public, where shall she
shine? Even that solace from the
scoffs of the world, a home of her
own, is often from this very cause de-
nied her: for how few, unless favour-
ed by Fortune, can hope,without pass-
ing with some degree of eclat through
the ordeal of public opinion, to ob-
tain the object of their ambition, a
husband !

Next to the quadrille came the
English country -dance, in modem
language ycleped kitchen-dance, still
kept up in country-towns for the ac-
commodation of those who cannot
dance quadrilles. A bride led down.
She was in all the bloom of youth
and beauty. It was evident that a
deeper tint than usual suffused her
cheek, and this was rendered still
more apparent by the contrast of her
dress. Yet no eyes but mine follow-
Y 2 '

160

THE STRANGER GRAVE.

ed her as she sought her way mo-
destly but gracefully down the scarce
open ranks. On the contrary, I ob-
served envious tosses of the head,
aversion of the eyes, &c. among the
females, and even some impoliteness
on the part of the males in blocking
up the way. I endeavoured to as-
certain the cause of this. She was
the apothecary's daughter, or, in
other words, she was nobody. The
couple that followed were not so treat-
ed; they were somebodies. Said I to
myself, Was it so twenty years ago?
I felt a sudden glow'of indignation,
followed by a shivering of disgust.
I retired hastily to my humble dwell-
ing (where, come what will, I am
somebody ) ; and with a glass of grog
and a cegar, sat down to meditate on
the scene I had just quitted. The
result of my cogitations was, that
what I conceived to be an alteration
in the world within twenty years, was
in fact caused by viewing the same
objects through a different medium ;

GAELIC

No.

THE STRANGER GRAVE, OR MACKIT.

The following fragment represents
the vivid and unalterable sentiment
of predilection for clinging to their
own people in life and in death, which
so firmly united the individual at-
tachments of the Gael with the pro-
sperity of their clan. A Macgregor,
mortally wounded, escaped from the
battle of Methven; and being pur-
sued by a host of foes, retreated to-
wards Glenorchy. He expired in a
miserable hovel, and his body being
found, was inhumed far from the
graves of his fathers. His ghost is
supposed to appear beside the bed

that Mammon always was, and al-
w;iys will be, worshipped to the end
of the chapter; that when I first en-
tered the world, being young, hand-
some, and with good expectations, I
experienced no neglect in my own
person; that being then gay, thought-
less, and occupied with myself or
some other admired object, I took
but little notice of what happened to
others; that being now comparatively
old, and, of course, no longer hand-
some, with prospects blasted, and, of
course, poor, I am become an object
of indifference, if not of scorn, to
the world ; and that, under the in-
fluence of disappointment and dis-
gust, I may perhaps view the prac-
tice and customs of society with a
jaundiced eye. I retired to bed,
dreamt of the vanities of human life,
of Solomon, Socrates, Seneca, &c.
&c. and rose in the morning, though
only ten hours older, full ten years
wiser than I was the night before.

RELICS.
X.

DONICH AND THE SON OF ALPIN.

of heath where reposed his sworn
friend, a Macgregor, with the pa-
tronymic Mackildonich. Breaking
the temporary rest of the living, the
dead bewails the estrangement of his
mortal remains from the dust of his
clan. Mackildonich removes the
bones to the cemetery of his forefa-
thers, and the troubled spirit retires
to " his airy cave of peace." The
ghost is supposed to say :

" Sweetly slumbers Mackildonich;
while low, among the dust of stran-
gers, lies Macgregor of the race of
kings. No friend, no kinsman bends

NOBLE EXERCISE OF THE POWER OF BEAUTY

161

over his unheeded grave. His dwel-
ling is dark and lonely. The dry
whistling grass and shaggy heath
are the sole companions of moulder-
ing limbs that hewed down ranks of
the valiant in battle, and hung up to
feed the eagles a host of the foes of
Clan Alpin. Pale glimmers the si-
lent moon over the unheaped cairn,
where no son of Alpin ever made his
narrow house ; but he, that restless
spirit, still hovers in the clouds of
his own land. The blast of the fo-
rest drives fiercely; and as drops from
the stern rock the living stream,
the tears of a gloomy shade pour
down for his own people, when he
sails through the mist of a land of
strangers. His people live among

NOBLE EXERCISE OF THE POWER OF BEAUTY.

their own woody hills, or they die
and are mingled with the dust of
their own tribe ; but he that is scat-
tered to the earth of strangers, is
rootless as a withered leaf tossed by
angry gales."

Faintly over the wild vanished the
mighty beam of renown. Mackil-
donich bore the warrior to the graves
of his fathers of old, and in peace
he lies in their earth. The nettle
gray waves near, and the yew of
battle is green at his head. The
brave, the sons of the brave, stand
around ; they have piled his cairn to
the skies. The cairn rises moon by
moon, and heroes stand around, re-
calling the voice of his fame.

B. G.

Madame de Senetaiue, the widow
of the heroic Guy d'Exupiris, retired
to her castle of Miramont, determin-
ed to pass in retirement the first year
of her widowhood ; but, superior to
prudery, and sanctioned by the com-
pany of an aged lady, her aunt, she
did not decline visits from the fami-
lies of suitable rank in its vicinity.
After some months, several young
gentlemen paid her avowed homage.
She was one day in the balcony of
her castle with a crowd of admirers,
when she saw Mentail, the king's
lieutenant, dragging to prison a num-
ber of Hugonots. Her eyes were
filled with tears; but soon recollect-
ing that briny torrents of compassion
could be of no avail to the sufferers,
and turning to the preux chevaliers
of her circle, she said, " You have
often complained that I give you no
opportunity to prove your desire to
serve me. If you are sincere, you
will permit me to lead you to the de-

liverance of those victims. 'Tis true
we ai-e Catholics; these unhappy
men differ from us in religious tenets,
but they are our fellow-beings. It
is for us to consider what they suffer,
not what they believe." The nobles,
thus called upon by all-persuasive
beauty, never thought of delibe-
rating.

They were soon accoutred, and
the widow, equipped as an Amazon,
was the first to mount her milk-white
charger. Her golden-hilted brand
gleamed in the sun, waving her fol-
lowers to spur their steeds against
Mentail. His troops were dispersed,
and the captives set free. Enraged
that a band led by a woman should
compel him to resign his prey, Men-
tail collected a force of two thousand
men to besiege the castle of Mira-
mont. He was again defeated.
Henry III. violently incensed by the
disgrace of his officer, sent a chosen
detachment of troops, with orders to

TIMBER-RAFTS ON THE RHINE.

raze the castle of Miramont to the
ground. When this news spread
through the province, the nohility,
gentry, and peasantry confederated
to assist Madame de Senetaire, who
was universally beloved. Henry, be-
ing apprized of the associations for

her defence, coolly reflected upon the
hazard of embroiling his subjects for
an unmanly vengeance against a wo-
man, whose offence originated in hu-
manity, the loveliest charm of her
sex. He withdrew his squadrons,
and the lady remained unmolested.

TIMBER-RAFTS

The most important branch of
trade carried on at Dordrecht is that
in timber, which is floated down the
Rhine. The arrival of such a float
affords an extraordinary and inter-
esting sight to the stranger. Let the
reader figure to himself, in the mid-
dle of a wide river, a raft composed
of thousands of trunks of trees, large
and small, and among them oaks
which have attained the age of two
hundred years, fastened together, and
covered with a floor so as to present
one level surface. Let him imagine
this floating island inhabited, not by
a handful of men who work it down
the river by means of wind and tide,
but by upwards of a thousand per-
sons, having each their respective oc-
cupation. This enormous naval ca-
ravan is supplied with all sorts of pro-
visions requisite for a passage of some
weeks, and the duration of which is
always uncertain. The captain and
his family have a habitation commo-
diously arranged, and suitable to his
rank and functions ; while several
other apartments, formed of deal
planks, contain a greater or less num-
ber of the other persons. These

ON THE RHINE.

apartments are contrived with refer-
ence to their employments, in which
the fair sex bears its part ; and eve-
ry possible provision is made for the
general safety, especially in case of
storms. As soon as this floating ca-
ravan has reached the place of its
destination, the raft is taken to pieces
and the timber sold. Some of these
rafts sell for not less than 30,000/.
sterling. The captain, who is gene-
rally commissioned to dispose of the
timber, is of course detained some
time, but his people immediately set
out on their return on foot, in high
spirits, and buoyed with the hopes
of soon obtaining another job.

The consumption of provisions on
board one of these rafts during the
voyage from Cologne to Dordrecht
is from fifteen to twenty thousand
pounds of fresh meat, forty to fifty
thousand of bread, ten to fifteen
thousand of cheese, twelve to fifteen
hundred of butter, eight hundred or
a thousand of smoked meat, and five
or six hundred casks of strong beer.
The wages of each man is about
thirty shillings, besides his keep.

loq

• ■

ANECDOTES, &c.

HISTORICAL, LITERARY, AND PERSONAL.

year 1751, after he had attained the
age of ninety-two, he conspicuously
sparkled among the bcaux-esprits of

FONTENELLE.

Fontenelle was an admirable in-
stance of literary longevity. In the

ANECDOTES, &C. HISTORICAL, LITERARY, AND PERSONAL.

Paris. His attentions to the fair were
enhanced by the vivacious gallantry
of juvenile manners, and he often
complimented them by repeating his
own poetry, or extracts from other
writers, with a fluency and precision
which shewed that his memory was
unimpaired.

ORACULAR SAYING OF THOMAS DE

RYMER.

(From the Inverness Courier.)

What Gael is unacquainted with
the oracular saying of Thomas de
Rymer? or has not heard many of
various interpretations assigned to his
warning words, " When the cock of
the north has feathered his nest, let
the eagles of the isles whet their
beaks and talons?" In former times,
the growing power of the Gordon
chief was supposed to occasion this
premonition of the sage ; but some of
our rustic politicians have lately disco-
vered, that the Emperor of Russia
was denounced by Thomas de Ry-
mer as the cock of the north, whose
acquisitions should excite vigilance in
the eagles, or the chiefs or rulers of
the isles, the united kingdom of
Great Britain and Ireland.

ELASTICITY OF THE FLEA.

A flea will spring two hundred
times as high as itself. This asto-
nishing power it derives solely from
the peculiarly elastic structure of its
members. Supposing a greyhound
three feet long could spring in pro-
portion as far as a flea, he would en-
compass the globe in 219,642 leaps.
If he took one second to each leap,
he would complete the journey in a
few seconds more than two days and
a half; but allowing fifteen seconds
to each, it would take him SS| days.

HUMAN STATURE.

Mr. Hennan, of the French Aca-
demy, wrote an elaborate disserta-
tion, to prove that our primogenitor
Adam measured 123 feet, and Eve
118 feet, and that the human stature
was by slow degrees diminishing.
According to this hypothesis, the Es-
quimaux and other nations of the
lowest stature must be the aborigi-
nes of the fflobe.

BRITISH CEDARS.

The power of cultivation appears
in a remarkable manner, from the
fact that Great Britain now contains
more cedars than the country to
which that wood is indigenous. The
durability of that species of wood
has been established by the fact, that
on the discovery of a temple of Apol-
lo at Utica, near Carthage, cedar
timber was found in perfect preser-
vation, though above two thousand
years old.

STATUE OF PETER THE GREAT.

The vast block of stone, weighing
more than 1.339 tons, which now forms
a statue of Peter the Great of Russia,
was conveyed to Petersburgh, a dis-
tance of two hundred and eighty-
three miles, upon thirty-two brass
balls of five inches diameter, on
moveable hollow railways, of the same
composition as the balls, by sixty-
four men working two capstans.

ETIQUETTE OF FLORENCE.

So late as the year 1786, the eti-
quette of the court of Florence re-
quired the noblemen to courtesy to
the grand-duke and duchess. Only
foreigners, in consideration of igno-
rance, were permitted to bow.

164 ANECDOTES, &C. HISTORICAL, LITERARY, AND PERSONAL.

TURKISH MANUFACTURES.

The Turks have no manufactures
that can be styled peculiarly their
own; but in making tobacco-pipes
they excel other nations. Their dy-
ers are eminent for the brilliancy of
their colours, and there is one tint
unequalled by any country. It re-
sembles the scarlet extracted from
cochineal, but is richer. Tradition
tells, that the soldiers of the Cross
taught the Gael to prepare a beau-
tiful and indelible scarlet from a small
yellow-flowered wild plant, called su-
ku or red : perhaps it bears some af-
finity to the Turkish dye. At their
turning-lathe the Turks employ their
toes to guide the chisel, and they
shew a diverting dexterity in those
pedipulations.

DR. FORDYCE.

The late llev. Dr. James Fordyce
married a lady, whose paternal name
was Cummyng. The description
given of this marriage in a Memoir
of her just published is amusing.
Miss Cummyng had petitioned for a
delay, out of which it was determin-
ed to surprise her. She was told that
a party was expected in the evening.
The guests were each saluted with
an appropriate compliment; and the
whole party appeared to be entirely
at their ease, except that Miss Cum-
myng felt abeating ather heart, which
she could neither define nor under-
stand. She observed that the dress
of her Cicero was as gay as the so-
ber costume of a Scotch kirk minis-
ter would admit : his habit was en-
tirely new, and he wore light grey
silk stockings ; gold shoe, knee, and
stock buckles; and his full-curled
wig was newly and becomingly ar-
A smile of chastened plea-
irradiated his serene counte-

nance, while an attempered joy shone
in his fine expressive eye. Sir Wil-
liam Fordyce looked as he felt, de-
lighted ; the ladies were on their feet,
when the doctor, calm and collected,
approached Miss Cummyng, and said,
" Best beloved, my Henrietta, our
wishes are sanctified: fear nothing!"
He took her hand; she grew very
pale, trembled, and the tears started
into her eyes. " Sister," said Sir
William, taking her other hand, and
with gentle force raising her from
her chair, "all here unite to make
you happy ; and you are above af-
fectation." She was led to the cha-
pel belonging to the mansion. It was
lighted up and prepared for the so-
lemn occasion. The mysteries of the
day were at an end; the bride re-
sumed herself; and every one knelt
devoutly round the altar. The Dean

of , who had been engaged to

perform the ceremony, began, and
continued to pronounce the words
with impressive solemnity, till the
doctor had to say, " With my body
I thee worship," when he substituted
the words, " With my body I thee
honour." The dean repeated " wor-
ship ;" the doctor repeated " honour"
Three times the dean reiterated
" worship;' and as often the doctor,
in a voice which inspired awe, re-
peated " honour" The dignitary
paused; a momentary red suffused
his cheek, but he proceeded, and the
ceremony was concluded.

ranged.

3iire

WHITE MOURNING.

So late as the time of Henry III.
of France, the dowager queens of that
country were styled reines blanches,
from the white mourning which they
were used to wear. " Henry," says
L'Etoile in his Journal, " went to
salute the white queen." That queen

THE EMIGRANT.

was Elizabeth of Austria, widow of
Charles IX.

TALIESIN.

Taliesin, the Welch bard, was a
foundling. He was discovered, like
Moses, a castaway on the waters,
in a weir on the coast of Merioneth-
shire. The infant bard was wrapped
in a leathern wallet.

TUDOR VAUGHAN AP GRONO

Was a worthy of the brilliant era
of Edward III. Without any title
of hereditary or legal origin, he as-
sumed the style of Sir Tudor ap
Grono. The king, being informed of
this presumption, sent for the eccen-
tric self-derived knight, and demand-
ed of him by what power he assum-
ed a prerogative which belonged on-
ly to royalty. The Welchman re-
plied, that " he preserved that right
in virtue of the laws of King Arthur.
In the first place, he was a gentleman ;
secondly, he hadalarge estate; third-
ly, he was valiant and resolute ; and
if any man," he continued, " shall
doubt my valour, I throw down my
glove in test of courage, and stand

ready to encounter the gainsayer."
The king was charmed by this intre-
pid defiance, and immediately con-
firmed the assumed honours. Hen-
ry VII. was descended from this ilT
lustrious knight, being the son of
Edmund Earl of Richmond, son of
Sir Owen Tudor, who was the son of
this courageous Sir Tudor Vaughan
ap Grono.

ANCIENT WELCH FOIITIEICATION.

On the celebrated mountain of
Pen Maen Maur is an ancient forti-
fication, surrounded with a strong
treble wall; within each wall, the
foundation site of more than one hun-
dred towers, all round, each about
18 feet diameter within; the walls
about 18 feet thick. This situation
must have been impregnable. The
entrance, which is steep and rocky,
ascends by many windings : one hun-
dred men might defend it against
fifty times their number; and within
its walls there is room for twenty
thousand men. This is supposed to
have been a place of refuge before
and subsequent to the massacres of
the Cambrians by Edward I.

THE EMIGRANT: A Sketch from Life'.

A 1'lague on all speculators, say
I, more particularly on the specula-
tor on change of climate ! I had read,
Mr. Editor, of emigration to Ame-
rica and to Van Diemen's Land, aye,
and to other lands, until the goodly
streets of London, the rows of houses,
and shops from which the eye is re-
galed with prints and jewels, and the
nose with mock-turtle and a la mode
de Paris, became at length hateful
to my senses : for, sir, I read of
purling streams, new-mown hay, gip-
Vtol III. No. XV.

sy hats, unaffected innocence, and
pure aii*, until the very atmosphere
of Hampstead Heath offended my
olfactory nerves, and even the Green
Park seemed to me less verdant than
a Kidderminster carpet. " I will
leave," said I, " this abode of dirt,
smoke, skim-milk, and knavery." I
said so, and as I act as quickly as I
speak, it was not long ere I com-
menced my operations. I must also
tell you in your ear, Mr. Editor, that
I am married; and that, long before
Z

IOC)

THK EMIGRANT.

I read of purling streams, Mrs. Jug-
gins, my deary that is, tried hard to
inoculate me with a love of a country
life, particularly of a life in that part
of the country in which she was born
and bred. But perhaps it may not be
amiss to inform you how Jenny and
I became acquainted. I was one day
crossing Tower-Hill, when I beheld
as pretty a country wench as ever
fattened a pullet, accompanied by
two males, whom I took to be her
father and brother. She was about
four feet three high, with a pair of
blue eyes, cherry cheeks, a divine
smile, white teeth, and a nimble pace.
Her accompaniments, had I to de-
scribe them two hundred years ago,
as coming from the distance of a
hundred miles from London, would
have given some play to my descrip-
tive powers. As it is, it will be suf-
ficient to state, that their dresses
were only of the same cut as many
of our would-be country gentlemen
on the 1st September; not so well
fitted indeed, but saving the bronze
of their countenances and their
gloveless hands, they might have
been taken for Londoners, somewhat,
'tis true, behind the fashion. The
lady was much more fashionably at-
tired. I have said that you might
have imagined them Londoners, and
so you might until they opened their
mouths: you then forgot it all in the
difficulty of understanding their pa-
tois, which with some pains I manag-
ed to comprehend, as they came for-
ward to address me, begging to know
bow they could obtain a sight of the
Tower, the lions, and all that; and
as I was never behindhand in civi-
lity when a pretty girl was in the case,
I conducted them not only to see the
beasts, but the Armoury and the
Jewel -OfHce. Their gratitude for

the attention knew no bounds. They
compelled me to visit them at their
lodgings at the Bull Inn, Bishops-
gate; and at length getting on the
blind side of Jane's venerable mam-
ma, once, twice, thrice, I visited them

at M , and at length I married

her daughter.

Jenny, as I have said, frequently
urged me to live in the country ; and
while a tear stood in her blue eye,
would tell me, she was sure I should
be happy there, and she should be
so happy too, that at length I be-
came in love with a pastoral life. I
could neither hunt nor shoot, but
then I could read, and her father
would bring me the newspaper every
Saturday night; and then her mo-
ther Alas! while we were plan-
ning and thinking of this journey,
both her parents died : but then Jen-
ny had a brother and his wife and
two sisters, these would be such good
neighbours! for they were only part-
ed by some ten miles, to a country-
man nothing, but to a Cockney a long
way to a tea-party. Well, but my
Jenny grew poorly, and her sisters
were often poorly, and then they
would write to each other such mov-
ing letters, and Jenny would be so
glad to hear from them, that she wa-
tered every line of their letters with
her tears ; not that I ever saw ought
but the effect, when she would blame
the cold for the redness of her eyes.
At length Munden began to tire, In-
cledon ceased to charm, and the Park
to please. Urged by the solicitude
of Jenny and my fancied love for
vernal scenes, I determined to live
with our own people. A journey of
one hundred and fifty miles with a
wife, two children, a cockatoo, and
a pug-dog, was a rather awful under-
taking; but we were not to be daunt-

THE EMIGRANT.

167

ed by trifles. It was not long before
a proof of the bill, explaining our
future designs, was put into my hands.
" To be sold by auction, all that ele-
gant and fashionable household fur-
niture, plate, linen, and china, a pi-
ano-forte by Broderip, &c. &c. &c.
the property of Andrew Juggins, Esq.
leaving London." Surprised as we
were at the splendid appearance
which our humble furniture made in
the catalogue, we were almost knock-
ed up with disappointment when we
heard that our goods had been
knocked down for a sum less by a
hundred pounds than we expected.
But as we had wisely imagined that
we must give " plenty for our whistle,"
we determined to make up for this
deficit when we resided in the coun-
try, and this trouble was soon for-
gotten. What the poor wretch feels
whose little all must go to satisfy a
ruthless creditor, I can well imagine,
for even in my situation I felt consi-
derably annoyed at this parting with
my household gods. 'Tis true, I
avoided the scene as much as possi-
ble ; but one day being obliged to
speak to the modern Langford, I was
compelled to behold my ancient
friends tumbled over the floor. —
Scarcely indeed had I approached
the scene of action, when looking-
glasses and chairs, once my own, met
my sight, and the fellows who bore
them, knowing them to have once
been my property, gave me an im-
pudent sort of recognition, as much
as to say, " I have your ancient Lares 1"
On the head of a ragged urchin, I
recognised one of my rose-wood card-
tables, at which many a " canne one
partner" once sat : how often has its
green baize been ruffled by the
knuckles of the decided rubber-
player, the three by cards or four by

honours men! There on a donkey's
back came our best carpet, on which
many an infant foot had danced. On
the head of a tall Irishwoman flou-
rished roses, geraniums, and myrtles,
once bargained for by my deary at
Covent-Garden market; while the im-
mortal Pitt, Nelson, and George III.
had become the property of a vertu-
loving mechanic, who, in his haute
to possess his king, had insensibly
become his decapitator, and who, on
seeing me, crossed the way, in hopes
I might have been a mender of mon-
arch s.

Thank heaven I could not say that
I was without a ducat; for the mo-
ney was presently handed to me, the
duty paid, and soon after a post-
chaise was at the door. Betty was
perched on the dickey, with the cock-
atoo on her fist like an ancient fal-
coner, or Leonora in the Padlock,
Myself and Jenny occupied the
chaise, Gertrude on her lap, Bobby
occupied my knee, and Rover lay
between our legs, save and except
that ever and anon, with dangling
and heated tongue, he strove hard
for a share of the front window.

I shall not trouble you, sir, with
the scenes of extortion and the little
miseries which we encountered, as
we posted all the way, until our ar-
rival at M : how often we paid

for fresh fish and young chicken of
olden time ; how often we were in-
formed " I'm ostler," or " I'm cham-
bermaid;" how frequently we heard
" Chaise on, next turn ;" or how often
I taxed the bills. Suffice it to sayj
that we reached in safety the house
taken for us, and to which we were
warmly welcomed by all our relations.
To a man, sir, who has lived in a
small genteel house in Pentonville
or Walworth Crescent, with a front
Z 2

168

A NOBLEMAN APPItKIIENDED ON HIS OWN WARRANT.

garden of the size of a hearth-rug,
and a back garden almost as big
again, you may imagine that a large
old house and half an acre or more
of pleasure-ground must have been
an acquisition. I was delighted, and
for a time I was fully occupied in
painting my dwelling, and having
purchased the Gardener's Multum in
Parvo, in learning when to rake bor-
ders and plant box-edging. With
the assistance of a gardener, I made
my garden much prettier than that
at Hornsey Wood, or my friend Dun-
can's at Highgate. But now for the
sociabilities of the place. I had read
in the novels of Smollett and Fielding

of the neighbourly conduct of people
resident in small market-towns in
the country, where, at the first inn
in the place, a parlour was dedicated
for a club, at which the parson, the
doctor, and the lawyer met to smoke
their pipes. I was fully aware that
modern refinement had succeeded
in banishing these friendly meetings;
but yet there were such things as
reading -societies and tythe-feasts,
where, at least, I expected to give
and take some little share of convi-
viality: but in this it seems I was
mistaken.

(To be concluded in our next.)

A NOBLEMAN APPREHENDED ON HIS OWN WARRANT.

The yew, the holly, and the pine-
tree produce their most thriving
plants and most durable timber on
the highest hills. This property is
recognised by the ancient bards, who,
in Gaelic poesy, call those trees
" waving nurslings of the storm;"
and, like them, it appears that the
mountain garb has acquired distinc-
tion amidst the blasts of adversity.
The act of Parliament prohibiting
the Highland phelibeg and accoutre-
ments, excited the public attention
to their supposed analogy with inde-
pendence of spirit, valour, and har-
dihood; and not only was the attach-
ment of natives to their picturesque
costume raised to enthusiasm, but
southern noblemen and gentlemen
caught the flame, and eagerly sought
commissions in the 42d regiment.
When the unavailing proscription
was repealed, many southerns of con-
spicuous rank adopted the kilt as a
light and becoming hunting dress;
and Archibald Earl of Eglinton and
the late earl led this fashion with

gay elegance and successful power.
Their contemporary, the Earl of
Dunmore, frequently passed the sum-
mer and autumnal months at Inve-
rary castle, or at Glenfinart in Ar-
gyleshire, and generally wore the
plaid manufacture of the country in
appropriate style ; professing, that
besides being the most convenient
attire for a sportsman, it procured to
him amusing adventures. Of these
we are enabled to give a specimen.

One morning, just as his lordship
was setting off for the moors, an ex-
cise-officer applied for a warrant to
apprehend a noted smuggler, who
had dangerously wounded a super-
visor while officiating in his duty.
The delinquent was supposed to have
passed from Ayrshire into the district
of Cowal, and, as on former occasions,
disguised as a Highlander, to be
lurking among the hills. Lord D.
granted the warrant, and proceeded
in search of grouse, attended by his
gamekeeper. He had hardly enter-
ed the shooting-ground when a young

A NOBLEMAN APPREHENDED ON HIS OWN WARRANT.

169

fellow speeding along crossed his path .
His lordship asked if any accident
had. happened, or if any dangerous
illness urged his fleet steps to the
doctor's residence. The lad, in bro-
ken English, said, he was dispatched
on a joyous errand. Farmer Mac-
arthur and all his people and cattle
were at a shealing three miles up
through the mountains: his daughter
had come thither from the Lowlands,
after an absence of six years, with a
lady who took a fancy to her while
but a little girl, and nothing was ever
so lovely or so fine as Effie Macar-
thur; yet she was sad and tearful-
Her father wished to make that same
day a wedding agreement for her
with a rich farmer, his nearest neigh-
bour ; and the foolish lassie was break-
ing her heart for a far-off Sassanach
(Angltct Englishman), whom she
had promised to marry if her parents
gave their consent. The Sassanach
would follow her in a few days, and
they intended to have a grand pub-
lic-house in some part of the Low-
lands. However, former Macarthur
had decreed that Effie must give her
hand to a man of his own country.
Lord D. considered that he might
derive more pleasure from interesting
himself for the afflicted damsel, than
by pursuing the heath-cock, a recre-
ation he could have any day. He sent
the gamekeeper on another course
with the dogs, and took a zigzag
track pointed out by the messenger
for whisky to ratify the agreement.

By day the cottage of a High-
lander is ever open, and all strangers
are cordially received. The earl
walked sans ceremonie to the sheal-
ing, and forgetting to stoop as he
passed the lowly entrance, a contu-
sion on his forehead gave a memento,
perhaps not less impressive than the

admonition which Dr. Franklin tells
us a venerable friend bestowed on
him against a lofty carriage. With
assumed awkwardness, his lordship
pulled off his bonnet, making a rustic
bow to a young woman, who, with
inexpert fingers, was attempting to
spin. Her beauty, her attire, and
manners assured him she was the
distressed fair-one he came to suc-
cour in her utmost need.

In a short time her father came
in, and having welcomed the stran-
ger, commanded Effie to put off her
fantastic trappings, and get ready to
appear in garments more beseeming
the daughter and destined wife of a
farmer. The girl could not refrain
from weeping: her sobs brought her
mother from a little pantry, saying,
it was of no real use to be in such
haste ; the agreement might be de-
layed a few days, and surely Effie
asked no unreasonable indulgence
when she begged that the minister
should be employed to inquire John
Robinson's character from the Earl
of Dunmore, as his lordship knew
the young man since childhood. The
farmer listened with dogged con-
tempt, as conscious of power to en-
force his will — a power he was de-
termined not to forego ; but at the
mention of Lord D. his stubborn
composure kindled into wrath, and
darting fiery glances at his wife, he
exclaimed, " You silly woman, what
business has Lord D. with our con-
cerns?"

The wife mildly pleaded, " Your
daughter told you her sweetheart
was reared in that great lord's house,
and only left it two years ago, when
his lordship recommended him as
butler to the lady, who, at her death,
ordered so much money and all her
clothes to Effie. Lord D. would

170

A NOBLEMAN APPREHENDED ON III8 OWN WARRANT.

not send a bad servant to his own
cousin."

" The lad may be a clever ser-
vant, and yet good for nothing in
providing for a wife and children."
After a pause, the firmer muttered,
" Perhaps Effie has reasons for bring-
ing her cause before the earl. We
are country bodies to be sure, yet
we know what is likely to happen
when great lords take notice of pretty
giglets."

" O my dear father !" cried Effie,
" it is killing to hear you speak such
words. God forbid that I should
wish to see Lord D. ! I only beg you
will not hurry on this cruel agree-
ment, till you get some one you can
believe to ask his lordship about
John Robinson."

" And why am I to care whether
John Robinson is good or bad ?" re-
torted the farmer. " Do you think
I will ever allow you to have a pub-
lic-bouse far from me, and nothing
to call your own except what is with-
in four walls, in place of having
cows and calves, goats and kids,
sheep and lambs, covering a range
of miles, joining my own tenement?
Your outlandish John Robinson may
take to drinking, and soon leave you
a beggar. Many a man, sober enough
in his early days, lias turned out a
drunkard in old age, if he was much
in the way of temptation."

" All that know John Robinson,"
replied Effie in timid accents, " will
testify his good conduct. I should
do him injustice if I did not clear
him of blame."

" Aye, aye," returned the farmer
scornfully, " we are all good and wise
till we are much tried ; but, poor
simple creature, let my gray head
gain some credit from you while I
say, that if you knew for one week

the misery of being tied to a profli-

j gate or spendthrift husband, and had

j any clear notion of the wretchedness

I of poverty, you would thankfully

take the offer of spending your days

with an honest industrious firmer."

The old farmer and his circle spoke
Gaelic, which Lord D. understood,
though he could imperfectly speak
the language. To free all parties
from restraint, and to learn how he
could best interpose for Effie and
his protege, John Robinson, he an-
swered the few sentences addressed
to him as if he was ignorant of the
Gaelic. The farmer repeated his
injunction to Efiie to strip off her
gaudy dress, and borrow a home-
spun suit from her sister.

In her absence, the helpmate she
was doomed to accept was most kind-
ly greeted by the farmer. He was
a squat, red-pated, middle-aged man,
with none of that open cast of coun-
tenance generally pertaining to High-
landers. The old farmer plainly
communicated to him Effie's parti-
ality to a young Sassanach, and her
reference to Lord D.

" Such a reference is not to be
regarded," said the suitor. " Lord
D. may have his own reasons for
wishing her money to go to his fa-
vourite ; and he may have other views :
I would not take his word in such a
case."

The earl could hardly repress his
indignation, and he had no doubt
that Effie's money was the most pow-
erful attraction for this sordid wooer:
but he must not carry off a prize so
much above his deserts. The car-
roty-pated farmer added some jeer-
ing remarks upon Lord D.'s affect-
ing the garb and the popularity of a
Highland chieftain; but the old man
sternly interrupted him.

A NOBLEMAN APPREHENDED ON HIS OWN WARRANT.

171

K You must not speak disrespect-
fully of the earl under my roof. I
never saw him; but his bounty saved
many shearers from starving when
they went south before the harvest
was generally ripe, and among these
was my sister. He speaks kindly
and frankly to the meanest that come
in his way, and no distressed creature
ever left him without relief."

As the old farmer spoke, the
younger inquisitively eyed Lord D.
and beckoned to his host to follow
him out. Before the two farmers
reappeared, Effie came in, clad ac-
cording to the orders of her father.
Her mother soon joined her, placed
a wheel before her, and was seating
herself to similar employment, when
Effie said, " Mother, I never saw
you till now omit to offer a stranger
a drink of milk."

The old woman went for the milk,
and Effie whispered to Lord D.
" Poor man, if you are afraid of
pursuit, this is no safe place for you."
Lord D. thanked her with a clown-
ish bend of his head, and said he
feared not to remain. The old farmer
and his wife entered. The wife set
bread and cheese and milk before
the stranger, and the farmer pressed
him to take time and eat a hearty
meal. Lord D. was never fastidious:
he availed himself of the hospitable
invitation ; and when he declined eat-
ing more, the farmer asked how it
happened, that he, who neither un-
derstood nor spoke Gaelic, came to
wear a tartan kilt and plaid. Lord
D. indeed wore that garb, but then
he knew all that was said, and could
convey his own ideas in the language
of Highlanders.

" I have lived so near Lord D."
answered his lordship, f! that I am
infected by his freaks."

"His freaks!" repeated the farmer:
" if you was not in my own house, I
would tell you these words are un-
civil. Lord D. has no freaks."

" Perhaps I know Lord D. better
than you," said his lordship, " and
he is no better than other folks."

" Don't provoke me to say you
are worse than other folks," said the
farmer, raising his voice; but recol-
lecting he spoke to a stranger tinder
his own roof, he continued in a calmer
tone : " Can you tell me any thing
of a young man whose father and
mother died in a far-off country in
Lord D.'s service?"

" If you mean John Robinson, I
can tell you much to his commenda-
tion. His parents left some money,
and he has added to the amount: a
better behaved lad does not live."

Effie's crimsoned cheeks bore wit-
ness to her deep feeling while these
praises were spoken; but the old
former changed the subject, asking
a variety of questions, to discover
the name and abode of his guest.
The conversation was broken by the
tread of measured footsteps, and a
corporal's command of soldiers, head-
ed by Effie's suitor, surrounded Lord
D. Effie's complexion changed to
deadly pallor, and starting up, she
involuntarily uttered, " Oh! do not
hurt the unfortunate man !"

Lord D. had also risen in surprise,
when the corporal roughly accosted
him with, " Now we have you, and
if you again attempt an escape, we
shall stop you with a brace of bul-
lets. Come along !"

" I must first know whither and
wherefore," said Lord D.

" You are so innocent that you
cannot guess!" said the suitor: " then
you shall be told that, and may be
more than you wish to hear, when I

MUSICAL REVIEW.

bring you before Lord D. to account
for the marks of a scuffle on your
broken forehead."

" I shall be at Lord D.'s service,"
returned his lordship; " but I hardly
expect to find him at home, unless
he comes to meet me, his old friend."

" Friend! friend!" echoed the
farmer. " Lord D. to be sure is a
friend to all in the time of trouble,
if they are not worthless : but you
to call yourself his friend! you, a
prisoner and a vagabond! It is a
shame that you should dare to take
his honoured name in your lips."

" Come on to the lodge, my lads,"
said the earl, " and see if Lord D.
disclaims me. Yet I have a right to
see your warrant, and to know of
what I am accused."

" It is nonsense to let him stand
chattering," said the suitor. " The
rogue is only trying to gain time and
to get off; but I am not going to lose
my reward for giving information, so
drag him away!"

" I can walk without your help,"
. said Lord D. shaking off the rude
grasp of the suitor with no gentle
repulse. The old farmer attended,
to see how the culprit would deport
himself. At the back entrance to

the lodge the suitor inquired for
Lord D. and was told his lordship
had not returned from the moors,
but would certainly arrive about the
hour for dinner. The party might
wait in the servants' hall, and take
a jug of ale. As they passed to the
hall, Lord D.'s household gathered
to look at the prisoner ; but how
great was their astonishment to be-
hold their lord in custody as a va-
grant, if not a delinquent! To the
great amusement of his lordship, an
explanation altered the demeanour
of the crest-fallen suitor; and the
old farmer made very humble apo-
logies.

" As for you, honest old fellow,"
said his lordship, " I have only to
thank you for your rebukes, and for
speaking of me better than I deserve;
but I shall forgive your neighbour on
no other condition than your promise
to bestow your pretty daughter upon
my very worthy favourite, John Ro-
binson."

The old farmer assented. Lord
D. ordered refreshments and some
money for the party ; and before ten
days elapsed, his lordship danced
merrily at Efne's wedding.

B. G.

MUSICAL REVIEW.

PIAN0-FORT1J.

Rossini s celebrated Overture to the
Opera of " Matilde e Corradino,"
as performed at the King's Thea-
tre; arranged for the Piano-forte,
with Accompaniments for a Flute,
Violin, and Violoncello {ad lib.),
by S. F. Rimbault. Pr. 4s.; with-
out Accompaniments, 2s. 6d. —
(Hodsoll.)

The slow movement of this over-
ture of Matilde e Corradino, which

appeared at the King's Theatre last
season, claims the connoisseur's at-
tention. It is one of the most deep-
ly conceived, stern, and contrapuntal
instrumental compositions of the live-
ly bard of Pesaro ; and shews that,
with all his mercurial gaiety, he can
assume a grave countenance when
he has a mind for it : it combines the
scientific style of the old masters
with the tints and graces of a more
modern taste ; and there arc thoughts

MUSICAL UliV-IKW.

175

in it which strongly reminded us of \
Beethoven's profound strains. The
allegro is Rossini all over, and over
and over again; for it is full of his
mannerisms, and presents many re-
miniscences from his former works.
The latter, we regret to say, is a fea-
ture which every successive produc-
tion of this gentleman exhibits with
greater force and frequency, and
which has tended to diminish the
number of his votaries, and to lessen
in some degree the enthusiasm still
fondly harboured by those whom his
previous works had filled with delight.

The author is at this moment in
the midst of us : he has been called
from the scene of his earlier triumphs
and of his more recent failures to
a country fully sensible of his me-
rits, and willing to honour them. He
is engaged to write new works for
our stage : we are anxious for their
success. May we be permitted to of-
fer two words of advice towards the
accomplishment of these our sanguine
wishes? We are the more induced
to take this liberty, by the opinion we,
and the majority of the public, have
formed of .the first opera — not a new
one it is true — which has been recent-
ly brought out under his own direc-
tion. But for this latter circumstance,
Zelmira, we make no doubt, would
have proved a failure : the two or three
pieces of real merit which it presents
would not have been deemed an in-
demnity for the abstruse eccentrici-
ties, not to say more, the want of fresh
melody, and the stunning noise of
trumpets, drums, and trombones,
which disfigure this composition.
The overwhelming din of these in-
struments before and behind the cur-
tain renders the choruses of thirty
or more vocalists scarcely audible!

Vol. III. No. XV.

Whatever opinion the Continent
may entertain of the musical taste of
the English public in general, Mr.
Rossini may be assured, that the
bulk of the audience in the King's
Theatre consists of persons capable
of forming a most correct judg-
ment in musical matters, little sway-
ed by transient musical fashions, strict-
ly impartial, and often fastidious cri-
tics. These audiences, he ought to
consider, are familiar with everything
classic in music: Mozart, Haydn,
Beethoven have for years constitut-
ed their almost daily musical fare ;
and of Rossini they have of late had
such abundance, that the least repe-
tition, plagiarism, or reminiscence will
not escape unnoticed. Commonplace
ideas of the Italian school, hackney-
ed terminations, cannot be expected
to create sensation at the King's
Theatre.

Melody, fresh, original, bloomy
melody, will be the most essential
charm by which a composer for that
establishment can expect to fascinate
his hearers. Next to that, we place
the attraction of rich, select, and well-
entwined harmony, as distant from
the homely fare we are frequently
doomed to endure at our national
theatres, as it should be free from
the eccentricities which form ble-
mishes of the modern school, and
which have crept into the more re-
cent works of Rossini himself. Noise
and clangour of wind instruments,
brass and ass's skin, such as the ope-
ra of Zelmira is loaded with, will not
enhance or maintain Rossini's fame
in this country. These expedients,
like paint in the other sex, while they
momentarily conceal defects or im-
perfections, at the same time act as
heralds of their existence.

A A

174

MUSICAL UEV1KW.

The above remark*, although not
immediately applying to the article
which gave rise to them, will scarce-
ly be viewed in the light of a digres-
sion. The subject lies within our ju-
risdiction; and as the performances
at the King's Theatre are not regu-
larly noticed in our Miscellany, we
thought ourselves warranted in tak-
ing the present opportunity of speak-
ing a word or two in what we con-
ceived to be the proper time and
season: but our principal object in
this instance has been a sincere and
ardent wish for the preservation and
the further advancement of a com-
poser's fame, whose genius is justly
appreciated in this country, and has
no warmer admirers than ourselves.
We feel anxious that his arrival in
England should be viewed as an
epoch by his future biographer: we
are convinced that it only depends
upon his will and exertions to return
from our shores with increased ce-
lebrity, and with rewards adequate
to ensure independence to his future
career.

Favourite Airs selected from Ros-
sini's celebrated Opera " La Don-
na del Lago," arranged as a Di-
vertimento for the Piano-forte,
with an (ad lib.) Accompaniment
for the Flute, and performed on
the Apollonicon, by John Purkis.
Pr. 3s.— (Hodsoll, High-Holborn.)
This divertimento may be consi-
dered as a continuation, under a dif-
ferent name, of the several books of
operatic selections published by Mr.
P. under the title of Fantasias, and
successively founded upon the Ma-
gic Flute, Figaro, Tancredi, 11 Bar -
biere di Siviglia, &c. all of which
we have in their turn commented up-
on in terms of deserved approbation.
The present collection and arrange-

ment from La Do?ina del Lago will,
we are sure, be found equally attrac-
tive. It contains four or five of the
most interesting airs of that opera,
so far as their nature seemed most
calculated for mere instrumental ex-
hibition ; but, in this respect, we won-
der the elegant female chorus, " Di-
nibica Donzella," has not been ad-
mitted. This, and some other good
melodies, however, may possibly have
been reserved for another book, for
which there is abundant matter left
in the opera; and no one is more fit-
ted for the task than Mr. P. He
knows, in an eminent degree, how to
preserve the true spirit of the airs,
how to concentrate their hannony
into a narrower yet perfectly ade-
quate compass, and how to intersperse
short, tasteful, and judiciously con-
ceived digressions founded upon the
original subjects. All the operatic
selections which he has furnished
are really valuable.
Mozart's celebrated Grand Si/m-
phony, adapted for the Piano-
forte, with Accompaniments for a
Flute, Violin, and Violoncello (ad
lib.), by S. F. Rimbault. Pr. 6s. ;
without Accompaniments, 4s. —
(Hodsoll.)

This is the sixth of the grand sym-
phonies of Mozart, commencing with
an allegro in G minor, followed by
an andante, •§, in E b , universally ad-
mired for its beauty and scientific con-
struction. Mr. Rimbault's arrange-
ment, like all his prior labours of
this kind, is completely satisfactory,
and by no means intricate. A the-
matic catalogue of his numerous adap-
tations of classic orchestral works,
on one of the leaves in this book,
met our eye, and filled us with sur-
prise at the extent to which this gen-
tleman's industrious perseverance has

MUSICAL REVIEW.

175

already brought the collection ; while,
at the same time, it afforded a strong
conviction of the success which has
attended the undertaking.
Select Italian Airs arranged for the
Piano-forte, by S. F. Iiimbault.
Nos. V. and VI. Pr. 2s. each.—
(Hodsoll.)
Select French Romances for the Pi-
ano-forte, by the same. No. VIII.
Pr. Is. 6d.— (Hodsoll.)
No. 5. of the Italian airs consists
of " Una voce poco fa," from the
Barbiere di SivigUa; and No. 6.
contains the aria " Oh matutini al-
bori," from La Donna del Logo. In
the former the slow and quick move-
ments are given in their complete state,
with scarcely any alterations or ad-
ditions, and in a familiar and very
satisfactory style of adaptation. The
air from " La Donna del Lago," be-
sides a short introduction, not par-
ticularly characteristic or striking,
has been treated with somewhat more
amplification and episodical digres-
sion, and forms a very pleasing lesson.
The French romance, No. 8. is
the well-known and favourite melody
" L' Amour et le Temps," with three
variations, conceived in an agreeable,
fluent, and properly diversified man-
ner.

All these three publications are evi-
dently written for scholars of moderate
attainments, and they are entitled to
unqualified recommendation in this
respect, as combining the means of
instructive practice with the attrac-
tions of good melody.
Spanish Bolero and Waltz, compos-
ed and arranged for the Piano-
forte, by S. F. Rimbault. Pr. 2s.
—(Hodsoll.)

The title leaves it in doubt how
much of this publication is claimed
by Mr. R. as his own composition.

The waltz probably not; for the sub-
ject, at least, is quite familiar to our
ears. Be this as it may, the latter,
as well as the bolero, are deserving of
attention: their style is spirited and
tasteful; the waltz has some pleasant
divisions, an appropriate minor e, and
a well-conducted termination. The
execution is not difficult.
A Serenada for the Flute and Pi-
ano-forte, in which is (are) intro-
duced Mozart 's favourite Air "La
ci darem," and " Ciqud's Dream,"
an original Rondo, composed, and
dedicated to Charles Nicholson,
Esq. by J. Arthur. Pr. 3s.—
(Hodsoll.)

In the introductory andante, winch
may be viewed as offering the prin-
cipal portion of the author's own
inditing, we have found nothing to
attract particular attention ; the move-
ment bears a want of keeping and a
stiffness which lead us to presume that
Mr. A.'s experience in piano-forte
composition is not of a matured de-
scription. The second movement
presents Mozart's air, and nothing
more, plainly but fairly arranged.
The rondo, which has " Cupid's
Dream'' for motive, although sim-
ple in construction and treatment,
proceeds pleasantly and effectively
enough : there are no harmonic com-
binations beyond those of a common
description, but what there is, bears
proper connection, and blends into a
satisfactory whole. The flute, in
this sei'enada, is indispensable ; and
this being the case, a greater degree
of freedom and intercalatory action
between the piano-forte would have
been desirable : it sticks very closely
to its companion.

An Introduction and Rondo for the
Pianoforte, composed, and dedi-
cated to. Miss London, by John
A a 2

<^n

178

musical ur.vir.w.

Hopkinson. Pr. 2s. 6d. — (Royal

Harmonic Institution.)

Good taste, and a familiarity with
good models, are conspicuous fea-
tures in these two pieces. The in-
troductory andante, in particular,
bears this recommendation : it is writ-
ten with due feeling, and the distri-
bution of the harmony evinces both
a proper knowledge of theory and a
tasteful tact in its practical applica-
tion. The standard subjects in the
rondo cannot be called new ideas,
but they are united into a congruous,
fluent, and interesting whole, and
the various digressions are imagined
in a classic manner; some indeed may
be termed elegant. The episode in
F, p. 5, 1.1, affords proper relief,
the passages in the sixth and seventh
pages are well devised, and the co-
da is in character.

ORGAN.

" Cum sancto spiritu," Grand Cho-
rus from Mokarfs Mass, No. VII.
arranged from the Score as a Du-
et for the Organ or Piano-forte,
byJ.M'Murdie, Mus. Bac. Oxon,
Organist of the Philanthropic So-
ciety's Chapel. Pr. 3s. — (Boosey
and Co. Holies-street.)
A composition so truly sublime,
and so ably brought under the limit-
ed compass of four hands, must be
a treasure to those who have not had
an opportunity of enjoying it in its
authentic form ; and to those who have
heard it in full, the adaptation is well
calculated to renew the recollection
of their former treat. The care, the
judgment, and the ability with which
Mr. M'Murdie has accomplished
his undertaking, are conspiouous
throughout the duet, and entitle him
to our thanks. The task was not
one of an ordinary kind: the fugue

and the various subsequent contra-
puntal colourings required the qua-
lifications above adverted to, and a
zeal for the art to put them into suc-
cessful action.

VOCAL MUSIC.

" Vocal Anthology, or the Flowers
of Song?' Part IX. Pr. 6s.—
(Gale, Bruton-street.)
The present number brings the
" Vocal Anthology" to half its in-
tended career, which we believe has
been attended with decided success,
and certainly with considerable be-
nefit to the interests of the art, by
extending the circulation of many ex-
quisite specimens of classic compo-
sition. The contents are as follow:

1 . An ancient madrigal by Wael-
rant, a celebrated harmonist of the
renowned Flemish school in the 16th
century.

2. A song from The Beggars
Opera, "Would I might be hanged,"
in whose place we would willingly
have seen something else.

3. Recitativo and hymn by Him-
mel, excellent.

4. A song by C. M. von Weber,
the author of the " Freyschiitz:" full
of deep feeling and originality.

5. A quartett, " Et incarnatus,"
from a mass of Haydn's, in the best
style of that great master.

(5. An original duet by Mr. Ca-
ther, from a MS. opera of his com-
position, calculated to convey a very
favourable idea of the whole score,
although in the extract the harmonic
treatment, here and there (e. g. p. 39,
1. 1,) does not proceed with the de-
sirable aptitude and smoothness.
" Love wakes and weeps," Cleve-
land's Serenade in the jwpular
Novel of " The Pirate? set to
Mvsic, with an Accompaniment

exhibition or tiik: British institution.

177

for the Piano-forte, by II. J. Ba-
nister. Pr. 2s. — (Royal Harmo-
nic Institution.)

Mr. B.\s composition does not dis-
tinguish itself in any striking degree
from many prior attempts to melo-
dize these stanzas, which have met
our eye. The introduction is in a
very usual style ; the beginning of his
motivo resembles that of " Life let us
cherish," and the words in some in-
stances sit uneasy under the melody.
The latter is regular enough, and
propriety of harmony, under plain
forms however, has been attended
to. Imitatory passages, of mere
transposition, like that in 1. 2, p. 3,
have become so common, that, in
books on composition, they are de-
signated by the nickname of Rosa-
lies, from an old song under that ti-
tle, which abounds in this contrivance.

" Count// Gui/," the Poetry front
" Quentin Dttrward," sung by
Miss Ilammersley at the Royal
Concert - Room and Libraries,
Margate, composed by Augustus
Voigt. Pr. Is.— (Hodsoll.)
Mr. V. has also joined the race
after the MS. score pronounced to
be lost in Sir W. Scott's novel; and
he has certainly picked up a paper
which may fairly enter into competi-
tion with any of those that have hi-
therto been produced as the result of
the general search. There is fresh-
ness and considerable originality in
the melody; and, generally speaking,
the latter is conspicuous for its suc-
cessful expression of the text, es-
pecially in the first stanza. Of this
description are the words, " Ah!
County Guy," also " But where is
County Guy," &c.

FINE ARTS.

EXHIBITION OF THE BRITISH INSTITUTION.

The Directors of the British In-
stitution have opened the Gallery
this year with a good collection of
the pictures of our own artists, for
whose especial advantage indeed the
Institution was formed. A collec-
tion, like the present, composed of
such a great variety of subjects, and
in styles so different and often con-
trasted, will naturally excite contra-
riety of opinions : some have said,
that it is not the best which our art-
ists have formed at the British Insti-
tution. Upon a subject so arbitrary
as " the wild vicissitudes of taste,"
we have only to offer opinion against
opinion; and we are free to confess,
that so far from repining at the pre-

sent Exhibition, we think it furnishes
on the whole a gratifying proof of
the rapidly progressive advancement
of our artists in the various walks of
their profession. It certainly con-
tains, and particularly among those
furnished by the students, more nu-
merous and diversified specimens of
graphic improvement, than we re-
member to have seen on any previous
occasion without the walls of Somer-
set-House. There are not, it is true,
any very predominating pictures —
" no towering genius bursts upon the
eye ;" but, we repeat, there is abund-
ant proof of that laborious and toil-
some study, under the direction and
controul of wholesome precept, which

178

EXHIBITION OF THE BRITISH INSTITUTION.

is in general a surer presage of the
attainment of ultimate and permanent
reputation, than experience justifies
us in anticipating from the sudden
and impetuous bursts of an early
and fervid imagination, however bril-
liant and rapid in its precocious and
often delusive flight.

There are nearly four hundred
works in this Exhibition, many of
them by distinguished members of the
Royal Academy; foremost amongst
whom we were rejoiced to find Mr.
Owen make his reappearance, and
with powers unaffected by his severe
and protracted indisposition. His
picture, or rather portrait, of Bough
Joe, a study from nature, evinces
the unimpaired energies of his pen-
cil. It is a study full of coarse and,
at the same time, interesting expres-
sion; it conveys a great development
of energetic character, and is por-
trayed with a firmness of pencil and
truth of colouring, which, we repeat,
attests the full retention of the ad-
mired powers of this excellent artist.

iris and her Train. — Henry
Howard, R.A.

" Gay creatures of the element,
That in the colours of the rainbow live,
And play in the plighted clouds."

We are always delighted with Mr.
Howard's poetical pictures; their
brilliancy of tint, softened by such
gradual transitions of tone, and dis-
playing on the whole such an elabo-
rate harmony of colouring, combine
so many of the highest requisites
for admiration, as to render eulogium
superfluous. The grouping is sweetly
composed ; the buoyancy and aerial
motion of the figures are in Mr.
Howard's best style.
Comvs, with the Lady in the en-
chanted Chair. — W. Hilton, R.A.

The subject is from Milton's w Co-

mus," and to illustrate the following
lines:

" One sip of this
Will bathe the drooping spirits in delight,
Beyond the bliss of dreams. Be wise and
taste."

Is this the same picture, or a copy
from it, that we saw in the last Ex-
hibition at the Royal Academy? It
is a work evincing great poetical con-
ception and a fine eye for colouring;
one which, we should hardly have
thought, would have been permitted
to pass from the walls of Somerset-
House to the artist's private gallery.
If it be not the original, it is a copy,
and a good one too; but an artist of
such inventive powers and genuine
taste ought not to copy from himself.
If it be the same picture, we noticed
it in terms of just commendation in
our article upon the last year's Ex-
hibition at the Royal Academy.
The Death of Tita il Motto, a not-
ed Bandit of Val de Corsa — The
Bandit of the Appenines — Goat-
herds in the Campagna of Borne
— An Italian Scene — A Contadina
and her Children.— C. L. Eastlake.
This artist attracted considerable
attention in the Royal Academy last
year by his views of Roman scenery.
His pictures in this Exhibition par-
take somewhat more of individuality
of character, and contain some very
expressive delineations of local ob-
jects. The portraits of banditti are
bold and original; that of the Bandit
of the Appenines in particular is
highly characteristic.

Mr. Eastlake possesses a peculiar
and local tone of colouring, evidently
the result of a close study of some
of the best works of the Italian
school ; but he ought to take care lest
the disappearance of novelty should
give it a monotonous effect.

EXHIBITION OF THE BRITISH INSTITUTION.

179

Colonel Blood's Attempt to steal the
Regalia from the Tower of Lon-
don.— H. P. Briggs.

" lie went disguised as a clergyman, with
two associates, and after beating the keeper,
carried oft' the crown, globe, &c."— Rapin's
History.

This is a very clever picture, paint-
ed in the same style as the artist's
Guy Fawkes, in the Academy last
year. The determined energy of
Blood, and the struggles of the over-
powered keeper, are expressively
portrayed : the colouring, though in
general good, has in one or two parts
of the back-ground a hardness which
might have been avoided.
The Interview between Lady Jane

Grey and Dr. Roger Ascham, in

1550.— H. Fradelle.

" Dr. Roger Ascham, on a \isit to the fa-
mily of the Marquis of Dorset, at his seat at
Broadgate, found, at his arrival, that Lady
Jane Grey was alone, the rest of the family
being engaged in a hunting party j and gain-
ing admission to her apartment, he, to his
great wonder, found her reading the Phcedo
of Plalo, in the original Greek, which she
perfectly understood. She observed to him,
that the sport which her friends were enjoy-
ing was but a shadow, compared with the
pleasure she received from this sublime au-
thor."— See Miss Lucy Aikin's Memoirs of
the Court of Queen Elizabeth.

This is a beautiful little picture,
and in the artist's best style of elabo-
rate finishing: the expression of the
accomplished and unfortunate lady
is mild and intelligent; that of the
doctor is respectful and contempla-
tive : the fulds of the dresses are
broad and tasteful.

Maternal Affection. — W. Etty.

A beautiful specimen of Mr. Etty's
composition and exquisite colouring;
the maternal expression is portrayed
with great delicacy and tenderness,
and the Titianesque (as Mr. Fuseli
would call it) tone of colouring pre-
dominates with powerful effect. This

experiment to unite the Venetian
style of execution with simplicity has
succeeded, contrary to the precept of
Sir Joshua Reynolds.
The Sparta?i Boy. — T. Stewardson.
In this little portrait there is a good
deal of sombre and expressive cha-
racter.

A Park Scene, irith Sportsmen and
Springers, and a distant View of
Leeds Castle. — Miss O. G. Rein-
agle.

This is a pretty landscape ; the co-
louring bright and agreeable.
Carolus, the Hermit of Tong Cas-
tle, Staffordshire. — W. Hobday.
The expression deep and contem-
plative; the attitude grave and im-
posing: parts of the drapery are well
cast, but that behind the head looks
unseemly, as if detached.
The Inquisition: a Sketch. — Ph.
Corboukl.
A repulsive subject, with many
redeeming points in the execution:
the chiaroscuro is well managed.
Cottages in Scenery. — S. V. Bone.
The scene is natural, and well
painted.

Atalanta and Meleager. — George
Arnold, A. R. A.

" Her bow the lovely Atalanta strained,
The well-sped dart forsook the quivering yew,
And to the distant mark unerring flew;
Close at his ear the shaft a passage found,
And the first blood ensued the fair one's
wound."

This is a very clever composition,
from Ovid's story. The landscape
is rich and beautiful, and full of
pleasing masses, contrasted and re-
lieved with great skill. The group-
ing is also well managed.

Sunset. — Wm. Lewis.

This artist has a good deal of me-
rit, and this picture in many parts
exemplifies it, but it is deficient in
clearness of tone.

180

EXHIBITION OF THE BRITISH INSTITUTION.

Bolton Priori/, Moonlight. — T. C.
Hofland.

Mr. Hofland has several very ex-
cellent landscapes in this Exhibition,
and that, the name of which we have
prefixed, is a very superior produc-
tion ; the effulgent reflection of light
through the ruins is beautifully por-
trayed, and the foliage is painted in
Mr. Ilofland's best style.
Partridge-Shooting. — J. Barenger.

A bright - coloured and pleasing-
landscape.

Cupid and Psyche. — Richard
Westall, R. A.

This is, in point of colouring, a
rich and glowing picture; the dra-
pery is exquisitely wrought, and the
general effect poetical and delicate.
Valentine. — Henry Singleton.

" How use doth breed a habit in a man !

This shadowy desert, unfrequented,

I better brook than flourishing peopled

towns.
Here can I sit alone, unseen of any,
And to the nightingale's complaining notes
Tune my distresses and record my woes."

The character is taken from Shak-
speare's play of " The Two Gentle-
men of Verona," and the artist has
embodied a very spirited represen-
tation of it.

A View near the Town-Hall, Guild-
ford.— Charles Deane.

This is a very well executed view,
and in fine perspective: the colour-
ing is a little too bright and sparkling
for mere architectural objects.
Christ Instituting the Sacrament. —
Win. Brockedon.

A calm and solemn air, a plain and
chaste tone of colouring, correspond-
ing with the subject, characterize this
picture.
Wild Boars attacked. — H. B.
Chalon.

A good animal painting, full of
spirit, and well coloured.

A general View of the Inthroniza-
tion of his Most Excellent Ma-
jesty King George IV. — Frede-
rick Nash.

This picture was, if we mistake
not, in the Royal Academy. It is
a correct representation of that part
of the magnificent ceremony of the
coronation which took place in West-
minster Abbey.

Song of Death. — H. Corbould.
The subject is from Burns' s Po-
ems : the principal figure is well
drawn, and full of character: the co-
louring is in many parts creditable to
the artist.

Fruit and still Life. — N. Chantrey.
This artist has two very pleasing
little pictures in this Exhibition: they
are soft and delicate representations
of fruit and flowers, touched with a
skilful hand.

The Interior of a Stable. — E.
Childe.
A very well executed sketch, both
in drawing and colouring.

Felpham Mill. — P. Dewint.
This is a clever landscape: the co-
louring clear and natural.
Skating on the Serpentine River,
Hyde Park. — J. J. Chalon.
There is a great deal of bustle in
this picture ; but the colouring, pro-
bably from its unavoidable whiteness,
has a monotonous effect.

Syrinx. — John Martin.
Again we have, in Mr. Martin's
new work, the same splendid colour-
ing as in his former pictures, but
too vivid for any scenery of which
nature suggests to us any recollec-
tion.

The Social Pinch. — A. Eraser.
A good piece of grouping, and
full of national character.

Miss E. Jones's Little Rosette
and Jacqtwlin, Miss H. Reinagle's

. ■ ToLM.

:SSS

LONDON FASHIONS.

181

Views, Miss Gouldsmith's Land-
scapes, and several others by fair
votaries of art, maintain their de-
served reputation. It is pleasing to
see ladies of taste and intelligence

gracing the arts by their direct con-
tributions, and we regret that we
have not room this month to enter
more minutely into the recapitulation
of their merits.

FASHIONS.

LONDON FASHIONS.

MORNING DRESS.

Shaded striped silk dress of gros

de Naples; the corsage a la blouse;

the fulness confined at the top with

three satin rouleaus, equidistant.

Long easy sleeve, finished at the

wrist with rouleaus of purple and

aurora, or orange colour; the upper

sleeve very full, and intersected with

satin rouleaus, as at the wrist. The

skirt touches the ground behind, and

is finished with two satin rouleaus,

of the darkest shades of each colour;

above is an ornamented crescent,

composed of three semicircular bands ;

the points or horns united by a satin

star, and placed alternately up and

down. Elizabethan rufFof very fine

tulle, worked muslin ruffles, cornette

or cottage cap of tulle; border of

double tulle, disposed in bouffants

by alternate rouleaus of aurora and

purple satin; one side has a double

row of bouffants and a quilling of

tulle behind : the strings are of broad

figured gauze ribbon, cross under

the chin, and tie at the top in the

front of the cap. The hair parted

in front, with a few ringlets on each

side. Green cachemire shawl, and

green kid shoes.

EVENING DRESS.

Dress of yellow China crape ; the
corsage cut bias, made rather high
Vol. Ill No. XV.

and plain, simply ornamented round
the bust with a wheel trimming of
the same colour in satin and gauze,
composed of ornamented rings placed
at equal distances on a circular satin
wadded stem or rouleau. The cor-
sage is rather long, and set in a band
with satin corded edges, and fastened
1 behind with a rosette to correspond.
; Tucker of fine blond, drawn at top
| with a silken thread. Short full
j sleeve, with perpendicular rows of
| wheel trimming. The skirt is de-
corated with the same trimming, only
much larger, and, with the wadded
satin hem at the bottom, gives weight
and grace to the folds of the dra-
pery. The hair is arranged in one
row of large regular curls; and two
long yellow ostrich feathers, tipped
with 2)onceau, are placed on the right
side, and bend over the head. Neck-
lace, ear-rings, and bracelets of topaz
and turquoise. Embroidered lace
scarf with Vandyke ends; white kid
i gloves ; white satin shoes.

GENERAL OBSERVATIONS ON FASHION
AND DRESS.

Our fair pedestrians continue still
too much enveloped in furs to afford
us much to say respecting walking
dress: we have, however, seen two
novelties, which we consider likely
to be very fashionable towards the
B B

182

GENERAL OBSERVATIONS ON FASHION AND DRESS.

end of March. One is a mantle of
pale cinnamon-coloured cloth, made
moderately wide, and about half a
quarter shorter than the dress: it is
lined with bright rose-coloured ve-
lours cpingle, and finished round
the edge by four very narrow folds
of the same material: the pelerine,
which is round and rather large, is
edged to correspond, as is also the
collar; the latter is made in the de-
mi-pelerine style. This mantle is a
very elegant and appropriate walk-
ing envelope.

The other novelty is a pelisse of
grass-green levantine, trimmed with
ptucke de sole of a darker shade, in-
termixed with satin, to correspond
with the pelisse. A broad band of
2iluche de sole goes round the bot-
tom of the skirt; it is surmounted by
a row of acorns, formed of inter-
mingled folds of satin and pluche de
sole. The pelisse fastens up the
front by hooks and eyes, and is or-
namented with a single row of acorns.
The bust of the corsage is without
ornament; the back full. The celn-
ture is of pluc/te de sole edged with
satin, and fastened by a gold clasp,
in the form of two hands interlaced.
Long sleeve, of an easy width, simply
finished by a bias band of pluche :
full epaulette, arranged in the form
of an acorn, and composed of an in-
termixture of satin and pluche de
sole. The collar is shallow, stands
out from the neck, and partially turns
over.

Black bonnets are still fashionable
in promenade dress, but not so much
so as those that correspond in colour
with the mantle or pelisse. They
are now of an extremely becoming
size; the Mary Stuart brim seems
more in favour than the close cottajre

front, lately so prevalent: the latter,
however, is still frequently adopted
in morning costume by many tle-
gantes.

Merino, of the very fine and thin
kind, so much worn in France, is
now in great favour with us for high
dresses in carriage costume. We
have seen some of these gowns trim-
med with three broad wadded satin
tucks, each edged with a Hat trim-
ming in hard silk. They are dis-
posed in deep festoons, the hollow
of each festoon being filled with a
satin star edged with velvet.

Poplin high dresses, trimmed wLh.
broad bands of velvet, through which
are drawn satin puffs, of the cres-
cent form, are also a good deal worn
in carriage dress.

The only novelty that we have re-
marked in head-dresses is a bonnet
of white velours ipingle; the inside
of the brim is entirely covered with
broad blond lace disposed in fluting.s,
and projecting about an inch from
the brim: this edging of lace is sur-
mounted by a scolloped band of
shaded pink velvet. The brim is in
the Mary Stuart style, but smaller
than they are generally worn; low
oval crown, ornamented with knots
of shaded pink velvet and plumes of
down feathers tipped with pink; rich
white gros de Naples strings.

Morning dresses are now very ge-
nerally made without collars, and in
many instances not quite up to the
throat: they are worn with colla-
rettes of worked muslin, or of our
imitation of foreign lace. Sometimes
a demi-fiehu with a deep frill, which
falls over, is substituted for a colla-
rette. An English lace cornette or
demi- cornette, of a simple and be-
coming form, is an indispensable ap-

fri;ncii female fashions.

pendage to morning dress. The ma-
terials for gowns have not varied
since last month.

The trimming of a white gros de
Naples dinner dress struck us as
being very novel and pretty: it is
composed of lozenge puffs of blond
net; they are made very full, edged
by a bias band of pink satin, attached
by bows of the same material, and
ornamented with a small rose com-
posed of velvet in the centre of each
puff". We should not omit to say,
that this trimming surmounts a very
broad wadded satin tuck.

We have seen some dress hats
made with a double brim ; the lower
one small, a little pointed, and rather
narrower behind than before: the

upper brim is of the same shape, but
turns up; the crown is very small
and low. These hats are composed
of blond net; some are embroidered
in gold, silver, or steel: when that
is the case, they are ornamented with
feathers. Those that have no em-
broidery are adorned with flowers.
A wreath of flowers placed between
the double brim is partially seen
through it, and a small bouquet is
attached to one side of the crown.

Fashionable colours are, various
shades of brown; those called Tro-
cadero and bear's ear are much in
favour; cinnamon and mouse colours
are also fashionable; and different
shades of rose colour, citron, laven-
der, deep blue, crimson, and azure.

FRENCH FEM

Pakis, Feb. 18.

J\[y dear Sophia,

The court mourning for the
late King of Sardinia, which is at
this moment very generally adopted
by the greatest part of our elegantes,
gives a good deal of uniformity even
to promenade dress: I mean only as
to colour, for there is no particular
material expressly used for the mourn-
ing; velvet, silk, and satin being in
equal estimation. The pelisse or
manteau is generally of velvet ; the
bonnet of the same material, with
black feathers ; and the gown of silk
or satin, trimmed with gauze, crape,
or fur. Trimmings of this last ma-
terial are now very much in favour,
even for mourning dresses. Sable,
chinchilla, red fox, and grey squirrel
are most in favour, but ermine is su-
preme ton : those ladies to whom ex-
pense is not an object, have their
mantles or pelisses entirely lined with
it

VLE FASHIONS.

The newest chapeaux have the
crown in the form of a diamond:
these hats are trimmed with mara-
bouts, each angle being placed be-
tween two of these feathers ; a full
bouquet of marabouts also ornaments
the front: the crowns of other bon-
nets have a fulness at the bottom and
top, of about an inch broad, and be-
tween these ornaments is placed a
garland of flowers, or a rouleau of
curled feathers. The crowns of bon-
nets are still low, and the brims some-
thing smaller than they have lately
been worn ; they are made to stand
a good deal out from the face, and
the strings are always attached in-
side of the brim.

The most fashionable bonnets for
ladies who do not observe the court
mourning, are composed of an inter-
mixture of velvet and satin, of two
very strongly contrasted colours;
their only trimming is a full bow with
| long ends placed just over the left
B b 2

184

FRENCH FEMALE FASHIONS.

car. Those elegantes who dislike
this mixture of colours, wear velvet
bonnets trimmed with a broad band
of striped ribbon round the crown,
and a large cockade of the same
ribbon placed at each side. The
mantles or pelisses worn with these
bonnets are velvet, to correspond in
colour, or coating ; satin and levan-
tine being now used only for linings,
for which the former is most fashion-
able. The hoods of pelisses and
the pelerines of mantles are npw
much longer; their trimming consists
generally of an edging of the lining:
some are, however, trimmed with
fur ; but this is rarely the case, ex-
cept, as I before mentioned, when
the mantle is lined with ermine.

Dinner dress consists of a gown of
gros tie Naples, levantine, or velvet :
the corsage is ornamented by a dra-
pery in folds, which, sloping down
on each side of the bosom, is con-
fined at the bottom of the waist and
on the shoulders by bands of jet
beads; or, if the wearer is not in
mourning, of coloured satin. Short
sleeve, made very full, and confined
to the arm by a band ; a row of cor-
nets, a sort of trimming which sticks
out in such a manner as to remind
one of the quills of a porcupine,
forms a half-sleeve. The trimming
of the skirt consists of a broad sa-
tin rouleau, surmounted by a deep
row of cornets, over which are three
satin rouleaus.

The most fashionable evening
dresses are of black tulle, or crepe
over satin ; they are spotted in ge-
neral with jet stars; and the trim-
ming consists of a mixture of the
same material as the gown, with jet
ornaments and plumes of cocks'
feathers.

White, rose, Trocadero,and azure
crape, gauze, or tulle, over satin, are
the materials used by the few ele-
gantes who appear out of mourning.
The favourite trimming is an inter-
mixture of flowers and tulle: the
tulle, quilled in a full ruche, and
wreathed with roses, forms a very
light and pretty chain ; it surmounts
a broad rouleau, to which bouquets
of flowers are attached at regular
distances.

Very young ladies, if they do not
appear in mourning, have gowns of
white or rose-coloured crepe trimmed
with bouillonne, made very full, and
interspersed with rosettes of another
colour. The sleeves and the trim-
ming of the corsage correspond.
The rosettes must be of similar co-
lours with the flowers which form the
coeffure ; and the bouquet is now an
indispensable appendage to full dress.

Mourning head-dresses consist of
white satin hats with black feathers,
or black ones with white plumes. An
ornament, in the form of a reed, in
jet, placed rather far back, and a
plume of black cocks' feathers in
front, are also fashionable. White
marabout plumes, mixed with gold
ornaments, are much in favour with
ladies out of mourning, as are also
flowers. A favourite coeffure con-
sists of three bouquets of roses of
different colours, one placed just
above each ear, and the third insert-
ed between the two large knots of
hair on the crown of the head.

Those ladies who appear in co-
lours, wear Trocadero, lavender, ci-
tron, azure, rose, and crimson.

Adieu I Always your

Eudocia.

185

FASHIONABLE FURNITURE.

A FRENCH BED AND DECORATION OF THE CHAMBER.

The end of the apartment being
sufficiently recessed to receive the
tripod supports of the drapery, they
stand in the situation represented in
the annexed plate during the day-
time, but at night they may be drawn
forward with the curtains, so as to
canopy the bed in as ample a manner
as may be desired, and thus obtain a
larger inclosure than is usual with
this article of furniture. The bed
itself is prepared to draw forward
on rollers, either accompanied by

the semicircular back or otherwise,
as by a simple means it is readily at-
tached or liberated.

The colour of the apartment be-
ing a light blue, the draperies would
harmonize if of a delicate fawn or
pink, lined with white. The basket
is intended to contain artificial flow-
ers, and each tripod would be de-
corated in a similar manner. The
chairs and other furniture should be
designed in a corresponding style.

INTELLIGENCE, LITERARY, SCIENTIFIC, &c.

Shortly will be published, under the
patronage of, and dedicated by permis-
sion to, the King, Views and Illustrations
of his Majesty's Palace at Brighton, by
his private architect, John Nash, Esq.
This work will consist of Picturesque
Views, highly finished in colours, as fac-
similes of the original drawings, chiefly
made by Mr. A. Pugin, of the entire
building and principal offices, taken from
the gardens ; also views of the chief apart-
ments, as completed with their furniture
and decorations. The whole will be il-
lustrated by plans and sections, accom-
panied by descriptions, explanatory of
the building, the relative situation and
appropriation of the apartments, and of
their splendid furniture. Specimens of
this work, which will be finished in the
first style of elegance, and of which only
two hundred copies will be printed, may
be seen at Mr. Ackermann's, where also
subscriptions are received.

Mr. Ackermann is preparing for pub-
lication Four Views of Edinburgh, taken
from the most interesting points of that
picturesque city.

The third number of Views in Germa-
"y> Tyrol, and Italy, from lithographic

drawings by Messrs. Harding, Westall,
and Hullmandel, will appear on the 1st
of March.

Of the Britannia Delincata, the fifth
number is ready for delivery.

Mountain Rambles, and other Poems,
by G. H, Storie, Esq. of Trinity Hall,
Cambridge, will be published in a few
days.

An historical romance of peculiar in-
terest, to be called The Prophecy, by the
author of " Ariel," " Wanderings of
Fancy/' &c. &c. will very shortly make
its appearance.

The Rev. W. S. Gilly will shortly
publish, A Narrative of an Excursion to
the Mountains of Piedmont in the Year
1823, and Researches among the Vaudois;
with Illustrations of the very interesting
History of these Protestant Inhabitants
of the Cottian Alps ; with an Appendix,
containing important Documents from
ancient MSS. in one vol. 4to. with maps
and other engravings.

Mr. Solomon Bennett has issued the
prospectus of a work, to be entitled The
Temple of Ezekiel, or an Illustration of
the 40th, 41st, 42d, &c Chapters of
Ezekiel : to be published in a 4to. vo-

180

POETRY.

lume, and illustrated with a ground-plan
and a bird's-eye view of the Temple.

Mr. George Cruikshank is engag-
ed in illustrating two volumes, entitled
Talcs of Irish Life, written, from ac-
tual observation, during a residence of
several years in various parts of Ireland ;
and intended to display a faithful pic-
ture of the habits, manners, and condition
of the people.

Mrs. Lanfear has a small volume near-
ly ready, entitled Letters to Young Ladies
on their fit st Entrance into the World; to
winch will be added, Sketches from Real
Life.

The series of sketches or tales under
the title of Sayings and Doings, which
are on the eve of appearing, in three vo-
lumes post 8vo. are understood to pro-
ceed from the pen of Mr. Theodore Hook.

Miss Benger, author of the Life of
Mary Queen of Scots and of Anne Bo-
leyn, is engaged in another biographical
work, of which Elizabeth, Queen of Bo-
hemia, the most interesting of the Stu-
arts, forms the subject.

It is well known that Galland's French
translation of the collection of the Thou-
sand and One Nights, from which the
versions into other European languages
have been made, was so imperfect as to
contain only the smaller number of those
celebrated tales. The public will there-
fore learn with interest, that Mr. Acker -

mann has in considerable forwardness a
translation of that part of this collection
which has not yet appeared in an English
dress, from a complete copy of the ori-
ginal, which the eminent Oriental scholar,
Mr. von Hammer of Vienna, was fortu-
nate enough to meet with during his di-
plomatic mission at Constantinople.

Mr. A. A. Watts is preparing for
publication a new edition of his Poetical
Sketches, which will include Gei trudc de
Balm and other additional poems.

The Account of Mr. Bullock's Travels
and Discoveries in Mexico is expected
to appear early in spring, under the title
j of Six Months in Mexico.

A new edition of the l'lays of Shak-

: spearc, from the text of Johnson, Stec-

vens, and Reed, with notes, original and

j selected by Mr. Henry Neele, is announc-

I ed. It will be illustrated by engravings

from original paintings by G. F. Joseph,

A It. A. engraved by Charles Heath and

other eminent artists.

The Rev. T. F. Dibdin will publish
in April next, The Library Companion,
or the Young Man's Guide and the Old
Man's Comfort in the Formation of a
Library, in one very large 8vo. volume.

A highly finished and accredited like-
ness of Mrs. Hannah More, engraved by
Worthington, from a painting by H W.
Pickersgill, A. R. A. will be published
in a few days.

TO THE AUTHOR OF" THE PILGRIM'S
TALE "

As Love and Wit, at eventide,

Were chasing bees in Pleasure's bower,
They captnr'd one that strove to hide

For safety in a passion-flower.

Wit cautiously withdrew the sting,
And tipp'd an arrow's point anew j

Love plum'd it with a silken wing,
And bath'd the barb in honey-dew.

Said smiling Love, "This shaft will be,
Thus plum'd and pointed, sharp and fleet;

And, though severe its wounds, through thee
This honey-dew will make them sweet."

While laughing o'er their skilful art,
They saw dark Terror gliding by j

And letting fall the gifted dart,
Wit whisper'd, it was time to fly.

He found the dazzling shaft, and stain'd
Its brightness with a darker hue,

Resolv'd to mingle all it gain'd
Of others' power with Terror too.

The magic dart of Love and Wit
And Terror's gifts, can never fail

To pierce, yet please, while launches it
The poet of " The rilgrim'sTalc."

M. C.

Printed by L. Harrison, 373, Strand.

THE

&epo6ttorp

ARTS, LITERATURE, FASHIONS,

Manufactures, §c.

THE THIRD SERIES.

Vol. III.

April 1, 1824.

N° XVI.

EMBELLISHMENTS. pack

1. View of the South Front of St. Margaret's, the Seat of the

Earl of Cassillis . . . . . . . . .187

2. — the Entrance Front of Ditto . . . . .189

3. Ladies' Dinner Dress . . 212

4. Ball Dress .......... ib.

5. A Cabinet Glass 245

6. Muslin Pattern.

CONTENTS

MISCELLANIES.

Views of Country Seats. — St. Marga-
ret's, the Seat of the Earl of Cassillis

The Loiterer. No. VII ......

Madalena, or the Consequences of Elope-
ment (continued)

The Ludicrous Mistake

Gaelic Relics. No. XI. — CeaneaehMac-
ceaneach, Primogenitor of the Clan
Mackenzie

The Unknown Friend

Letter to Jean Jaques ltousseau, by the
late William Comee, Esq

Notions of Uncivilized Nations relative
to Writing

Account of Mademoiselle de Launay,
afterwards Madame de Staal . . .

Desultory Thoughts on the Arrival and
Celebration of Birthdays. By J. M.
Lacey

Concentrated Sun-Beams: Address of
the Solar Company

The Emigrant Bookbinder: from the
Portfolio of a Traveller

Adventures of a Heart: communicated
by a Resident in Paris in June 1823 .

Ghost Stories. No. VI — Apparition
of Lady Lee

The Confessions of a Rambler No. VII

Some Particulars of Mr. John Letb bridge
and his Diving-Machine

The Emigrant: a Sketch from Life (con-
cluded)

Anecdotes, &c. Historical, Literary,
and Personal — Irish Keens — Curious
Flogging- Match — Auricular Confes-
sion— Jeremiah Clark — Peter Bajus,

187
189

191

197

198
203

205

210

211

213
21o

218
220
223

22;3
230
231

l'AGE
the German Pedestrian — Lieutenant
John Oswald 233

MUSICAL REVIEW.

Rifs's Twelfth Fantasia for the Piano-
forte 23G

Sri ii, 's Arrangement of an Air de Ballet
by Bishop 238

Brucuier's Arrangement of Bochsa's

Fantasia ib.

Cochins' Companion to the Musical As-
sistant ih.

Anuisemens de l'Opera 240

Boosey's Selection of Airs by the most
admired foreign Composers .... ib,

Mayseder's Twelve Waltzes for the Pi-
ano-forte 241

Green's Preceptive Melodies .... ib.

Overture to Rossini's Otello, arranged
as a Duet ib.

FASHIONS.

London Fashions. — Ladies' Dinner
Dress 242

Ladies' Ball Dress Hi.

General Observations on Fashion and
Dress ... ib.

French Female Fashions 244

Fa>hionable Furniture. — A Cabinet

INTELLIGENCE,

LITERARY AND SCIENTIFIC

145

POETRY.

Sorrow's Address to the Poppv. By .!.
M. Lacey 247

The Storm: A Fragment .... ib.

LONDON:

PRINTED FOR, AND PUBLISHED BY, R. ACKERMANN, 101, STRAND;
To tvhom Communications (po$t-paid ) arc requested to he addressed.

Printed by L. Harrison, 373, Strand.

TO READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS.

Publishers, Authors, Artists, and Musical Composers, are requested to transmit
on or before the 1 5th of the month, Announcements of Works which they may have on
hand, and we shall cheerfully insert them, as we have hitherto done, free of expense.
New Musical Publications also, if a copy be addressed to the Publisher, shall be duly
noticed in our Review; and Extracts from new Books, of a moderate length and of an
interesting nature, suitable for our Selections, will be acceptable.

A Lesson for Fathers and the Frolicsome Duke in our next.

We shall endeavour to gratify a Querist in an early Number.

The notice, respecting the omission of which a Civil Inquirer complains, was
introduced in a preceding Number, in the place appropriated to such articles.

The able communication of X. X. would be more suitable to the columns of a
newspaper than to our pages, from which political and religious discussions are alike
excluded.

Longbow seems to have mistaken his powers : strength (or rather coarseness) is
not the only qualification requisite for " shooting folly as it flies."

Persons who reside abroad, and who wish to be supplied with this Work every Month as
published, may have it sent to them, free of Postage, to New-York, Halifax, Quebec, and
to any part of the West Indies, at £4 12s. per Annum, by Mr. Thornhill, of the General
Post-Office, at No. 21, Sherborne-lane; to Hamburgh, Lisbon, Cadiz, Gibraltar, Malta, or
any Part of the Mediterranean, at £4 12s. per Annum, by Mr. Serjeant, of the General
Post-Office, at No. 22, Sherborne-lane ; and to the Cape of Good Hope, or any part of the
East Indies, by Mr. Guv, at the East-India House. The money to be paid at the time of
subscribing, for either 3, 6, 9, or 12 months.

This Work may also be had of Messrs. Auuon and Krai*, Rotterdam.

THE

Beposttorp

ARTS, LITERATURE, FASHIONS,

Manufactures, fyc.

THE THIRD SERIES.

Vol. III.

April 1, 1824.

N°- XVI.

VIEWS OF COUNTRY-SEATS.
st. margaiiet's, the seat of the earl of cassillis.

This beautiful villa, the South
Front of which is represented in the
annexed Engraving, is situated on
the banks of the Thames, in the pa-
rish of Twickenham. It bore at one
time the name of Isleworth Park,
and at another the New Park of
Richmond. The old house belong-
ed successively to the Countess of
Charleville, Lord Muncaster, and
the Duchess of Manchester. The
whole property, with what was called
Twickenham Park, was purchased
by Francis Gosling, Esq. who added
a portion of the park to the grounds
of St. Margaret's. This has been
rendered classic ground by the resi-
dence of Sir Francis Bacon, who
here passed many of his happiest
days: here he pursued his first stu-
dies in the great book of Nature.
Here imagination may picture to it-
self the great man making the meads if

Vol III. No. XVI.

and neighbouring glades his study,
far from the scenes of bustle and am-
bition that surrounded him in matu-
rer life. Here he had the honour
of entertaining Queen Elizabeth ; and
it was here that he had hopes of
forming a mineralogical society, as
appears from a paper in the British
Museum, wherein he observes: —
" Let Twitnam Park, which I sold
in my younger days, be purchas-
ed, if possible, for a residence for
such deserving persons to study in,
since I experimentally found the si-
tuation of that place much conveni-
ent for the trial of my philosophical
conclusions, expressed in a paper
sealed to the trust, which I myself
had put in practice, and settled the
same by act of Parliament, if the
vicissitudes of fortune had not inter-
vened and prevented me."

This society he intended to be for
C c

188

ST. MAROAKETS.

the express purpose of exploring
abandoned mineral works.

After Sir Francis sold the estate
of Twickenham, we find that it pass-
ed through various hands, and at last
became the property of Lucy, the ad-
mired but extravagant wife of Ed-
ward Earl of Bedford. She gave it,
in 1618, to Sir William Harrington,
who sold it to John Lord Berkeley of
Stratton. It was purchased, in the
year 1743, by Algernon Earl of
Mountrath, from whom it passed to
Sir Win. Abdy. The estate being-
divided into lots, and put up to sale,
the greater part was purchased by
Francis Gosling, Esq. who pulled
down the old mansion in Twicken-
ham Park, and attached a consider-
able portion of the grounds to St.
Margaret's, as lias been before stat-
ed : but this beautiful villa, as it now
stands, owes its present splendour
and delightful arrangement, both in
the house and grounds, to the noble
proprietor, who has displayed great
judgment in forming out of old build-
ings, by combining them, the very de-
lightful villa that now constitutes the
chief ornament of Twickenham Park,
and of the view down the river from
Richmond, from which it is seen to
great advantage.

In the interior arrangement, fitting-
up, and combination of furniture, it
vies in elegance with any thing of
the kind in the kingdom. In fact, it
is so exquisite and chaste, that in
admiring the suite of apartments, we
forget the splendour that pervades it.
The Dining-Room occupies the east
wing, extending along the south front :
it is a fine room, lofty, and finished
with a dome, from which is suspend-
ed a beautiful chandelier. Several
fine pictures, by the old masters, or-
nament this apartment, as well as the

charming anti-room which connects
the suite of apartments. The Draw-
ing-Room also contains some fine
paintings ; and connected with it is a
boudoir of singular beauty.

The Drawing-Room occupies the
west wing, commanding views over
the Thames to the south ; while the
windows to the west reach down to
the ground, laying the apartment
open to the verandah and pleasure-
grounds, which form a fine fore-
ground to the sweetest view. The
silvery Thames in all its beauty is
seen issuing from beneath Richmond-
bridge, which is surmounted by the
far-famed Richmond-Hill, gemmed
with villas rising from luxuriant woods
up to the very top. The middle dis-
tance is composed of delightful mea-
dows of the richest verdure, embel-
lished with some fine trees; while
the other side of the river is orna-
mented with villas. These, combined
with the pleasure-boats and craft that
are continually gliding along the po-
lished surface of the Thames, form
a scene seldom rivalled.

A terrace-walk extends along the
water to a pleasing octagon pavilion,
at the extremity of the grounds,
from which the views are equally de-
lightful. Isleworth, with its ivied
church, backed by the rich woods of
Sion, appears to great advantage
from this spot. From this walk the
home scene is full of interest, com-
manding a sweet lawn, embellished
with an elegant green-house to the
right, while to the left the out-houses
are formed into the semblance of a
chapel, surmounted with a pictu-
resque tower.

The lawn is divided by a bridge
ofconsiderable magnitude, overgrown
with ivy, which has all the appear-
ance of bold Gothic ruins; while

THE LOITERER.

180

through the arches is seen a fine
avenue of limes of considerable
length. The whole has a sequestered
and monastic appearance, that well
accords with its name of St. Marga-
ret, which seems to imply that the
spot has been dedicated to religion.
The walks and drives over the
bridge extend to the Entrance Front,
which furnishes our Second View for
this month. It is equally pleasing
with the South Front. A colonnade
extends from side to side, and is so

connected with a very delightful
green -house as to form a pleasing
and dry walk, when the weather pre-
vents out-door exercises. This green-
house is most judiciously arranged,
not only affording a perpetual spring
walk, but being an elegant screen to
the offices.

The kitchen-gardens are exten-
sive, well walled, and abounding in
fruit-trees, possessing also a hand-
some range of hot-houses and lime-
pits.

THE LOITERER.

No. VII.

I was acquainted some years ago
with a Frenchman who used grave-
ly to insist that the English in ge-
neral, however well informed they
might pretend to be, were very im-
perfectly acquainted with their native
language. I remember we used to
contest this point very obstinately;
but one only of the arguments that
he employed is present to my recollec-
tion, and that is, the frequent mis-
application of the term honest fel-
low. I had forgotten my acquaint-
ance and his singular opinion alto-
gether, till they were recalled to my
mind by an invitation I lately receiv-
ed to dine with a party of honest fel-
lows. Three of these gentlemen
were successively announced to me
by my host as an honest fellow, a
very honest fellow, and the honestest
fellow in the world; and certainly
when I came to make inquiries into
their respective claims to these ti-
tles, I could not help acknowledging,
that those people who bestowed it
upon them might be fairly said to
fall under the Frenchman's censure
of not understanding English.

Mr. Guzzlcmorc, the honest fel-

low, is remarkable for drinking more
wine and saying fewer words over it
than any man in England. He is
now about forty-five, and in the
whole course of his life has never
been distinguished by any other cir-
cumstance than the two I have men-
tioned. He has a very good estate,
from Which nobody but his wine-mer-
chant derives any benefit; and a num-
ber of poor relations, none of whom
have any reason to complain of his
partiality, since he treats them all
with equal neglect. No one would
think of asking his opinion on any
other subject than the quality of wine,
and nobody would ever dream of
requesting any favour from him, un-
less it was to assist their judgment
in purchasing it; and yet this animal,
such as he is, is very generally com?
plimented with the title of an honest
fellow.

It is now some years since Bob
Ranter exhausted both his fortune
and credit; but he is, as he himself
says, a man of ways and means, which
he proves by keeping up a very styl-
ish appearance without a sixpence
of revenue. He has a very numer-
C c !»

190

THE LOITEltr.lt.

ous acquaintance, all of whom he con-
trives to lay under contribution in
some way or other; but his happy
assurance and ready presence of
mind enable him to do it with an
ease and spirit which veil, if they can-
not entirely conceal, his being a mere
spunger. Bob is celebrated for his
obliging disposition; that is, for his
readiness to assist any frolic, how-
ever mischievous or unprincipled,
and for his invincible good-humour,
which is nothing more than an ut-
ter want of shame and sensibility.
Such are the two qualities which
make nine-tenths of his acquaintance
declare that he is a very honest fel-
low.

Dick Dashall, destitute himself
of fortune, had the good luck to
marry a most amiable woman with a
very fine estate. He always treated
her in public with the greatest re-
spect and affection. No lover could
he more gallantly assiduous in shawl-
ing her up before he suffered her to
venture out of a warm room, nor
more careful in preventing her being
incommoded by a crowd in getting
to her coach: consequently he was
regarded by every body as a mira-
cle of a husband ; and when he se-
duced the wife of his best friend, it
was generally allowed that the fault
must be on the lady's side, because
it was impossible such a fine open-
hearted fellow could be guilty of de-
liberate treachery. Yet this fine fel-
low had laid close siege in private for
months to the wife of his friend, while
he totally neglected his own ; but the
world would not believe it, any more
than it would credit the report of
his leaving a girl, whom he had se-
duced, and her child, of whom he was
the father, to starve at the very mo-
ment that he placed his name at the

head of a patriotic subscription, to
which he contributed a large sum;
that is to say, on paper, for he for-
got to pay it. He has, however,
credit for generosity, because he has
been known to assist those who are
as profligate as himself; and for spi-
rit, because he once challenged a
gentleman, who said he had acted
dishonourably in seducing the wife
of his friend: so that go where you
will you are sure to be told, that he
is generous, spirited, open-hearted,
and, to crown all, the honestest fellow
in the world.

If this is not a perversion of lan-
guage I don't know what is: but these
are not the only instances of the kind
that have fallen under my observa-
tion. The term sneaking fellow is very
often expressed where honest ought
most certainly to be used : this is the
case with Sam Softly, who is a good
husband, an excellent father, a warm
friend, and, in the strictest sense of
the word, an honest man; but some
peculiarities of manner, a quaintness
of expression, and a strict business-
like manner of settling with people,
so as neither to cheat nor be cheat-
ed, occasion him to be characterized
by the generality of people as a
poor-spirited creature, a miserable
animal, in short, a sneaking fellow.

I am afraid that it is not the men
alone who are chargeable with this
perversion of language; the ladies,
dear souls! are not wholly exempt
from the same fault. Mrs. Drudge-
well is declared by all her female
acquaintance to be the best creature
in the world. Is it her piety, chari-
ty, or generosity, that has procured
her this character? Not at all: she
owes it to her being the convenient
friend, or rather sycophant, of all
those with whom she is connected.

MADALEXA.

191

Ever occupied in attending to her
own interest, and sensible that no-
thing so effectually promotes it as
those little nameless compliances
which cost the persons who make
them nothing but their dignity and
independence of mind, she is always
at the orders of her friends; always
ready to go on their errands, to act
as a spy on their servants; in short,
to perform any servile office that

may entitle her to a dinner, and to
the appellation of the best creature
in the world.

My memory would furnish me with
instances enough of the same kind
to exhaust the reader's patience,
only that, fortunately for him, a fit
of indolence induces me to postpone
the subject to some future opportu-
nity.

N.N.

MADALENA, OR THE CONSEQUENCES OF ELOPEMENT.

(Continued from p. 150.)

tion took place. Mrs. Wortesly had
never separated from her affection-
ate husband, and was therefore more
easily induced to assist Mrs. Gil-
man's innocent stratagem. She was
indeed surprised, as Colonel Gil-
man's unkindness had partly tran-
spired, and his free behaviour with
Miss Jervas had not escaped notice:
however, when Mrs. Wortesly heard
she was returning to England, Mrs.
Gilman's avoidance of being her fel-
low-passenger was sufficiently ac-
counted for. The transport in which
Major Wortesly was to sail was
crowded with men; at least Mrs.
Wortesly assigned this as a reason
for begging to have a state-room in
the frigate in which Colonel Gilman
was to sail to Portugal. She said a
crowded ship would bring on a se-
vere paroxysm of her haunting foe,
the asthma; and Colonel Gilman, the
quintessence of politeness to every
lady except his wife, insisted that
Mrs. Wortesly should occupy his
large state-room, and declared it was
always his intention to sling his cot
in his cabin. Mrs. Gilman was to
get on board in the evening, disguis-
ed as one of Mrs. Wbrtesly's attend-
ants, and to have a bed in the same

The lady of the eldest captain
had been Mrs. Gilman's most inti-
mate acquaintance in the regiment,
and through her influence with Lady
Melbourne, Captain Wortesly was
appointed major. In a moment of
the most agonizing perplexity, Mrs.
Gilman had recourse to Mrs. Wortes-
ly ; and the worthy old lady second-
ed her views, without pi'ying into the
circumstances in which they origi-
nated. Colonel Gilman had told his
wife, that the British troops were or-
dered from Sicily to Portugal: she
must return to Britain, and Miss
Jervas would be an agreeable com-
panion during his absence. Mrs.
Gilman was shocked by the latter
part of the colonel's communication ;
but desirous of parting, as she had
lived with him, on amicable terms,
she suppressed the emotions of of-
fended delicacy, and only replied,
that she hoped he would not be
much appalled, though his good ge-
nius should take her semblance on
the banks of the Tagus, He gaily
said, he must hail such an apparition
as his better angel. Mrs. Gilman
told Mrs. Wortesly she wished to
smuggle herself to Portugal, and stir-
prise the colonel when the debarka-

102

MADALl'NA.

apartment. Colonel Gilman bade
farewell to his lady, and left Miss
Jervas wholly in her power; but she
employed the opportunity to benefit
that unhappy girl, not to retort inju-
ries. The widow of a commissary
clerk had been chiefly maintained
by Mrs. Gilman's bounty since the
decease of her husband : she was
going home with her children, and
furnished with ample funds to pay
all expenses for Miss Jervas. Mrs.
Croisdale took charge of her, en-
gaging not to part from her till she
saw her safe at the house of her fa-
ther, who had some appointment in
the customs at Deptford. Miss Jer-
vas accounted for her violent gi'ief
by saying, she had taken a long fare-
well of her dearest female friend, a
Sicilian lady ; and complaining of
sea-sickness, Avent to bed. She knew
nothing of the arrangements between
Mrs. Gilman and Mrs. Croisdale,
and both supposed Mrs. Gilman was
going to England, though she might
be unfit for attending to Miss Jervas
on deck. Mrs. Wortesly came to
drink tea with Mrs. Gilman, as the
fleets were not to weigh their an-
chors till early next morning; and
as soon as darkness assisted the pro-
jected masquerade, the colonel's and
major's ladies left the vessel which
was bound for England; and though
they were obliged to pass through
the great cabin, where Colonel Gil-
man, with several officers, sat over
their wine, Mrs. Gilman was not re-
cognised.

A contrary wind still detained them
in the harbour, and uproarious mer-
riment in the cabin kept the ladies
awake. When morning was a little
advanced, a bustle upon deck in-
formed them that the seamen were
hoisting the sails. The easy motion

of the frigate assured them that the
wind was fair, and she made great
way. The stupifying oblivion of in-
toxication continued to hush the ca-
bin till the first hour after noon, when
the ladies were roused by Colonel
Gilman ringing his bell. The door
of the state-room had been left ajar
by Mrs. Wortesly's servant, the wife
of a soldier, and they could hear
the colonel tell his valet to bring his
secretaire. Profound stillness again
disposed the ladies to slumber, when
a half angry exclamation from Co-
lonel Gilman and the coquettish
laugh of Miss Jervas announced her
vicinity. Her gaiety soon changed
to a doleful remonstrance at Colonel
Gilman's cruelty, as he imperiously
charged her with disobedience to
his injunctions, and presumptuous
folly, Avhich had frustrated his en-
deavours to send her home Avith a
soldered, if not a sound reputation.
She Avas now blasted to all intents
and purposes ; and if Mrs. Gilman
deigned to inquire for her, she must
be convinced of incidents, that, till
then, she only suspected; and the
uneasiness occasioned to her Avas to
him very offensive. Observing the
poor castaway in tears, he continued
to say, that having madly reduced
herself to a rueful plight, she should
bear in mind, that a pretty face was
all the barrier betAveen her and
friendless penury. She ought not to
dim her fine eyes Avith tears on any
account, unless pearly drops from
lustrous orbs could dissolve the heart
of a stripling Philander ; but Hora-
tio Gilman kneAv the sex too Avell to
melt at an eye-stream, or to be daz-
zled by an eye-beam. Miss Jervas,
sobbing and Avringing her hands, fell
at the feet of her relentless deluder,
voAving that his favour Avas all the

MADALKNA.

193

world to her, and she must cling to
him for ever. He bade her remem-
ber he had a wife.

" Yes," said the wretched girl,
rising from the humiliating posture
lie did not even assist her to quit ;
" yes, alas ! yes, Colonel Gilman had
a wife when he swore by every sa-
cred name to love his cousin for
ever!"

" For ever !" repeated Gilman in
amannerthat pointedly derided Lou-
isa's common-place expressions. " Can
you have been such a simpleton as
not to be aware, that all men become
sages as soon as their passions are
sated?"

The miserable Louisa could offer
no reply but tears ; and, after a pause,
Colonel Gilman, without one touch
of pity, begged she would be more
reasonable than to expect him to re-
main in folly or lunacy beyond the
period usual to other fugitive lovers.
Louisa upbraided, implored, expos-
tulated, but her destroyer was inex-
orable; in short, Mrs. Gilman heard
enough to assure her, that the most
injured wife is not so pitiable as her
guilty rival, setting wholly out of the
question the immeasurable difference
between conscious innocence and
conscious shame. The colonel rang
for his valet, and ordered him to do
up his little state-room in a minute,
and to take Miss Jervas's trunks
thither, giving notice when all was
ready : Poligni might shift for him-
self among the colonel's retinue; and
at his peril to be quick in preparing
the state-room. He soon returned
to say all was arranged for the lady.
He came just as Colonel Gilman had
finished telling Miss Jervas he would
place her at dinner beside the young
and opulent Ensign Haddacombe ;
and he recommended to her to call

up all her charms for conquest. She
saw that her betrayer was determin-
ed to rid himself of her, and in de-
spair followed Poligni to the little
state-room. Poligni returned to at-
tend his master.

While dressing, Colonel Gilman
vented his chagrin in a violent tirade
against that teasing encumbrance,
Louisa Jervas. He compared her
bold encroachments with the sweet
submissions of Mrs. Gilman, who
never persecuted him with her una-
lienable right to his adherence, and
swore his own Madalena was myriads
of times more beautiful than Jervas ;
being also transcendent in accom-
plishments and understanding. He
almost confessed he had been infa-
tuated in preferring a silly, yet mer-
cenary creature, to a wife who evinc-
ed the most disinterested regard for
his happiness. Flashings of admi-
rable good sense and good feeling-
broke through the mists of sensu-
alism in Colonel Gilman's discourse
with the wily Italian, who tried to
foment the passions that made him a
confidant of his master's low plea-
sures; and Mrs. Gilman too surely
knew, that though he did her justice
in the contrast with Miss Jervas, be-
cause he was now disgusted with her,
it must be in vain to hope he would
not soon be involved in guilt with
some new object.

Mrs. Wortesly had overheard so
much from the colonel's own lips,
that reserves on the condition of Miss
Jervas could be of no use; nor could
Mrs. Gilman endure to consign her
to irreclaimable depravity without
one effort to save her : she therefore
asked Mrs. Wortesly to interfere.
Her age fully sanctioned her in see-
ing the unhappy girl, to prevail with
her to admit a respectable Serjeant's

194

MA HALF, X A.

wife to bear her company, and to
sleep in lier room till they should
reach land. Mrs. Wortesly was au-
thorized to promise her all necessary
comforts on board, and to be placed
with a pension in a convent, till she
could be sent to England under pro-
per guardianship. Mrs. Wortesly
was detained from going to talk with
Miss Jervas, for Major Wortesly
came from his transport on regimen-
tal business. A boisterous gale pre-
vented his immediate return, and
Colonel Gilman invited him to din-
ner. Mrs. Wortesly went to the
state-room to offer her services to
Miss Jervas : she was not there. She
had dressed herself gaudily, and. was
on deck, surrounded by the junior
officers. Mrs. Wortesly made se-
veral efforts to meet her alone, and
went late at night to her state-room,
but did not find her. A storm of two
days' continuance kept Major Wor-
tesly from leaving the frigate: the
cabin continued to be a scene of in-
temperance ; and Major Wortesly,
not to incommode Mrs. Gilman, ac-
cepted Colonel Oilman's offer to sleep
in his cot a few hours, waiting the
first abatement of the gale to get
back to his transport. Major Wor-
tesly agreed, as if he was unwil-
ling to disturb his wife by rising
very early. The second night the
ladies slept profoundly : before day
they were called up by yells of" Fire!
fire !" from many voices. Half un-
dressed, they hurried to the cabin;
all the gentlemen had left it, and
they proceeded to join the affrighted
group on deck. Mrs. Gilman could
not see her husband; but she had
the piercing grief to hear the gray-
headed first lieutenant of the frigate
say to him, that if he had not so fu-
riously counteracted the attempt to

employ the soldiers, they could have
hindered the flames from reaching
the powder-magazine; and she could
gather from the half-frantic replies
of the colonel, that he and his party,
hearing the unusual commotion, had
sprung to the deck, and that the co-
lonel violently commanded the sol-
diers to desist from the measures
pointed out to them by the first lieu-
tenant. The sailors continued to
work as directed, and prevailed with
the soldiers to recommence cutting
off the communication between the
flames and the powder; but Colonel
Gilman abused, threatened, and ir-
ritated them, till they and the sailors
seeing no other chance to save them-
selves, lowered the boats, and left
Colonel Gilman and the officers to
their dreadful fate. What a hideous
picture was presented to Mrs. Gil-
man! The colonel, emerged from the
place occupied by his valet, where
he had been securing some gold coin
and papers, which he was fixing
round his waist, while he uttered the
most tremendous imprecations on the
men who seized the boats, and he
kicked about whatever he found on
deck. Others of the inebriated of-
ficers were ejaculating the awful name
of that Great Being whose most pre-
cious gift they had deformed and sus-
pended by intemperance. Others
prayed earnestly for deliverance, and
in the next moment reproached hea-
ven for their perilous situation. Some
exerted themselves manfully to assist
the gentlemen who retained their
senses, and then in despair threw
themselves prostrate, lamenting their
inextricable calamity. The captain
of the frigate seemed to be sobered
by the call on his efforts, and he
contributed to the utmost of his pow-
er in the judicious means adopted

MADALliNA.

195

by the old lieutenant and Major
Wortesly, to retard the progress of
the flames ; but a column of smoke
bursting forth near the powder-ma-
gazine warned them to provide for
their lives. Colonel Gilman and the
officers, who were bewildered by hard
drinking, leaped overboard, and one
of them, in a transport of phrenzy,
drew the captain of the frigate with
him. Major Wortesly and the old
lieutenant hastily lashed together
some spars and planks, to form a
raft for the ladies, who, in delirium,
continued pouring water upon the
boards, without attending to what
was passing around them. With
much difficulty they were called to a
perception of their danger. The
raft was launched overboard with
great effort ; the ladies were lowered
upon it from the cabin-window, and
suffered themselves to be lashed
firmly to the raft, which the lieu-
tenant and Major Wortesly under-
took to steer.

They had not gained the shore,
when an explosion that seemed to
shake the very foundations of the
deep, bereft the ladies of recollection.
Cries and groans announced that
scattered pieces of the exploded fri-
gate had fatally reached many who
were swimming for their lives. A
splinter mortally wounded the old
lieutenant, and in the last convulsions
of nature he nearly overset the raft.
The ladies were held fast by the
cords that bound them to the spars,
and by the involuntary grasp by
which all will cling to .any instrument
for safety. Major Wortesly, still
master of himself, preserved the raft
from being ingulphed, when, by lu-
rid gleams of moonlight, he saw,
among billowy chasms in the water,
Vol. III. No. AT/.

the jagged points of -shelving shingles
near the coast. Mrs. Gilman reco-
vered a little from the icy dullness
that overspread her body, when the
foaming surges washed over her, and
the shock of the horrible explosion
made all her blood retreat to her
heart.

The first renovation of her facul-
ties discovered to Mrs. Gilman, that
she and her companions in misfor-
tune had been cast upon the flinty
shore. They were all bound to the
raft, and she heard the roaring sea
close beside them : dread of being
swept into the watery vortex quick-
ened her pulse, and restored a little
warmth to her members. It was a
feverish glow of terror; but it ena-
bled her to use her hands in groping
to loose the cords which confined
her to the spars. With the aid of a
knife, which the major chanced to
have in his pocket, and with an exer-
tion never before essayed by fingers
so delicate, she at length succeeded
insetting herself at liberty; and in
like manner she extricated her friend.
Mrs. Wortesly was restored to sen-
sation, and joined in her friend's
endeavours to restore the major to
animation. After some time he at-
tempted to rise ; but sunk down im-
mediately, saying, in broken accents,
his last hour drew near. His voice
failed; yet his wife and Mrs. Gilman
continued the application that had
restored him, and he again spoke to
require a promise of Mrs. Wortesly
to preserve her life for the sake of
their grandchildren; and besought
Mrs. Gilman not to allow her friend
to remain in the cold beside his life-
less corpse. He raised his feeble
hand to point out to the ladies a light
to the north-west ; and again entreat-

D D

190

MAPALfcNA.

ing his wife to take care of herself,
his words became inarticulate. Mrs.
Wortesly bewailed her loss, and Mrs.
Oilman joined in silent tears. They
were soon convinced that the gallant
spirit had sought a happier sphere,
and drew the mortal remains as far
from the shore as to be beyond reach
of the tide. Mrs. Oilman had per-
ceived the lieutenant's wound must
have been mortal : in seeking to chafe
his forehead, she found his skull frac-
tured and his neck mangled. She
proposed to Mrs. Wortesly to move
his body further from the beach ; the
only testimony they could give of
gratitude for his presence of mind in
devising and executing the resource
to which they were indebted for es-
cape from the frigate. Having per-
formed this last mark of respect for
the corpse of the lieutenant, Mrs.
Wortesly again embraced her vene-
rable husband, with the most pite-
ous lamentations for her bereave-
ment. Mrs. Gilman allowed her to
vent the natural emotions of sorrow,
and then reminded her of the pro-
mise to preserve herself for the sake
of her grandchildren.

" Yes," she exclaimed, " my Wor-
tesly, the most excellent, the most
beloved, never required of me but
the wisest conduct ; and I will try to
be worthy of such a husband."

Mrs. Gilman was now more feeble
than her widowed companion: she
was exhausted by severely taxing
her strength. A noble enthusiasm
inspired Mrs. Wortesly; by the ef-
fect of sympathy it was soon impart-
ed, though in an inferior degree, to
Mrs. Gilman. They had slippers
when they rushed to the deck of the
frigate, but these were lost in the
sea: yet they felt not the rocks lace-
rating their feet, nor the tempest of

night piercing their thin and drench-
ed garments; absorbed in their af-
flictions, they walked in darkness
through ways unknown, and guided
only by the light pointed out to them
by Major Wortesly. The glimmer-
ing ray conducted them to the back
window of a large building; and look-
ing through a pane of coarse glass,
they saw a candle almost burnt out ;
but perceived no inhabitant. They
went round to an open door. Silence,
deathlike and ominous, reigned a-
round. The ladies supposed that the
inmates of the house were asleep.
The open door fronted that chamber
which contained a light ; it was visi-
ble, as that door was likewise un-
closed. They entered, and beheld
surgical instruments, bandages, un-
guents, and phials, strewed on the
floor. Several wax candles and
dressings for wounds lay on a table.
Mrs. Gilman lighted one of the wax
candles, as their friendly conductor
had neai'ly wasted to the socket of
the candlestick. " Oh ! for a little
fresh water!" said Mrs. Wortesly.

Mrs". Gilman quickly lighted ano-
ther candle, and ran through a long
passage to awake the family. She
was repeatedly intercepted by French
uniforms, torn and bloody. She was
exceedingly terrified; but the pale-
ness of Mrs. Wortesly 's countenance
and her hollow voice were still more
alarming, and anxiety to obtain as-
sistance for her overcame all selfish
considerations. She proceeded till
she reached another open apartment,
where a spectacle was presented,
branding the Portuguese with the
odium of ruthless vindictive cruelty,
Men stiffened in their gore heaped
the pavement in this lofty hall. " O
my God," said Mrs. Gilman, " we
are in the house of massacre! Had

Till'. LUDICROUS MISTAKE.

197

I not been a rash girl, what misery
should I have shunned ! But can I
forget Colonel Gilnian is perhaps
no more, and my dear friend to all
appearance dying?"

Mrs. Gilman banished her regrets
and fears with the idea of Mrs.
Wortesly's extremity; and looking
wildly around, observed a cistern,
with several flaogons ranged on a
shelf over it. Plunging one of these
in the water, she took it up nearly
full, and with desperate courage
passing the mangled bodies, made
her way speedily to Mrs. Wortesly.

She lay on the ground, and on exa-
mining her features and taking her
hand, Mrs. Gilman had the direful
certainty, that life had fled from her
only companion in this abode of hor-
ror. She fell on her knees, and, al-
most in distraction, exclaimed, " Fa-
ther of mercies! am I alone in this
frightful place? Oh! take, take me
to thyself!" Voices reverberating
through the edifice overcame Mrs.
Gilman's forced intrepidity. She tell,
seemingly inanimate, beside Mrs.
Wortesly.

( To be concluded in our next.)

THE LUDICROUS MISTAKE.

At the close of an election in
Lewes, in 1775, the Duke of New-
castle was so pleased with the con-
duct of a casting voter, that he al-
most fell upon his neck, and kissed
him. " My dear friend, I love you
dearly ; you are the best man in the
world; I wish to serve you; what
can I do for you?" — " May it please
your grace, the exciseman of this
town is very old; I would beg to suc-
ceed him as soon as he shall die."
— " Aye that you shall, with all my
heart: I wish, for your sake, he were
dead and buried now. As soon as
he is, fly to me, my dear friend, be it
night or day ; insist upon seeing me,
sleeping or waking. If I am not at
court, never rest till you find me:
not the sanctum sanctorum, or any
place, shall be kept sacred from such
a dear worthy good soul as you are;
nay, I'll give orders for you to be ad-
mitted, though the king and I were
closeted together." The voter had
swallowed every thing with rapture,
and scraping down to the ground, re-
tired to wait in faith for the death
of the exciseman. The latter took

his leave of this troublesome world
in the winter following. The instant
the duke's friend was apprised of it,
he posted off for London on the
wings of eager expectation, and reach-
ed Lincoln's-Inn Fields about two
o'clock in the morning.

The Kingof Spain, about this time,
had been seized with a disorder,
which some of the English had been
induced to believe, from particular
expresses, that he could not survive.
Among these the duke was the most
credulous, and probably the most
anxious. On the first moment of re-
ceiving this intelligence, he had dis-
patched couriers to Madrid, who
were commanded to return with un-
usual haste, as soon as ever the death
of his Catholic Majesty should have
been announced. Ignorant of the
hour in which they might arrive, the
duke could not retire to rest till he
had given directions to his attend-
ants to send any person to his cham-
ber who should desire admittance.
When the voter asked if he was at
home, he was answered by the por-
ter, " Yes — his grace has just gone
D d 2

198

CEANEACII MACCBANEACM.

to bed ; but we are directed to awake
him the moment you come." — " O
God bless him ! I know the duke told
me I should always be welcome, by
night or by day! Pray shew me up."
The happy voter was scarcely con-
ducted to the door when he rushed
into the room, and in the transport
of his joy cried out, " My lord, he is
dead!" — " That is well, my dear
friend; I am glad of it with all my
soul: when did he die?"—" The
morning before last, an' please your
grace." — " Why, so lately? AVhy,
my worthy good creature, you must
have flown; the lightning itself could
not have travelled half so fast as
you. Tell me, best of men, how
shall I reward you?" — " All I ask
for in this world is, that your grace
would be pleased to remember your

kind promise, and appoint me to suc-
ceed him." — " You, you blockhead !
you King of Spain! What family
pretensions can you have? Let us
look at you." By this time the as-
tonished duke drew back the curtain,
and recollected the face of his elec-
tioneering friend; but it was seen
with anger and disappointment. To
have robbed him of his rest might
have been easily forgiven, but to have
fed him with a groundless supposi-
tion that the King of Spain was dead
became a matter of resentment. At
length the victim of his passion be-
came an object of his mirth, and
when he felt the ridicule that mark-
ed the incident, he raised the candi-
date for monarchy into a rank more
suited to his desires — he made him

an exciseman.

GAELIC RELICS.— No. XI.

CEANEACH MACCEANEACH, PRIMOGENITOR OF THE CLAN MACKENZIE

Relics of the bards are extant
in poesy, and in the measured prose
they sometimes employed, not only in
their ouar.skals, or new stories, which
is the literal sense of that term, but
in relating the deeds of heroes ; and
these have perpetuated the memory
of valorous leaders belonging to all
the clans. They exhibit the Gael
with all their peculiar features of cha-
racter in full action. Other details
are flat and inanimate, compared to
such living portraits of heroes and he-
roines of the olden times. No doubt
an early acquaintance with those
spirit - stirring records has contri-
buted to kindle " the soul of fire"
in their descendants; and we may
hope the translations will, at least,
have no enervating tendency. The
pious and exemplary Dr. Blair often
said, that the poems of Ossian should

form a part of every juvenile library,
as they were eminently adapted for
instilling, not merely the military vir-
tues, but the noblest principles of
rectitude and generosity in all con-
ditions of life ; and to shew the fair
sex, that energy of mind is perfect-
ly compatible with the most enchant-
ing beauty and feminine sensibility.
With a very sincere feeling of infe-
riority in respect to the powers of
genius, the translator hopes the merit
of exalted sentiment belongs to each
of the productions which a feeble
hand attempts to invest in a more mo-
dern drapery.

The relic now given offers salu-
tary hints to the rulers and peo-
ple of every land. It consists chief-
ly of a good-humoured contest be-
tween a mainland and island bard,
concerning the comparative import-

CEANKACII M ACCF.AN F.ACH.

199

anee of equestrian and maritime ex-
ploits. The contest seems to have
been intended to amuse a superan-
nuated chief, desponding because of
incapacity to head his warriors to
" the field of fame." The transla- !
tor would rejoice to know, that relics
of the bards and poets of the early
ages, throughout the British domi- 1
nions, were collected for the press.
We are not less Britons than High-
landers; and there are few among
the natives of the mountains who are
not zealous for the honour of the
three kingdoms and their depen-
dencies. The Gael are now acquaint-
ed with the sister realms; and though
they dearly prize their own wild sce-
nery, they emulate and admire the
rich culture and decoration of the
south, and they regard the inhabit-
ants as brethren. Woe be to the
Gael who could be so illiberal as to
mark a line of separation ! His coun-
trymen would disclaim him. We
hope and believe there are few such
narrow-minded beings; and the first
personage in the empire has given
a gracious pattern of universal conci-
liation. The translator was induced
to give some early characteristics of
the clans, because best acquainted
with those antiquities. There is one
name which will affect every reader
of taste and sensibility with the most
delightful and homefelt associations —
the name of Mackenzie — the ele-
gant monitor of the higher classes,
and their imitators, who " ministered
to minds diseased" with skill so ex-
quisite, and medicaments so palata-
ble, that the patients mistook, and
still mistake, each salutary potion
for a sumptuous banquet. " The Man
of Feeling," "TheManof the World,"
" Julia de Roubigne," "The Mirror,"
and " Lounger," are imperishable

monuments of this mental art of
healing under the most pleasino-
form. They that took up the vo-
lumes to kill time, found their under-
standings illumined, and their hearts
improved.

The origin of the patronymic from
which the name of Mackenzie arose,
is said to have been a premature ex-
ploit of valour performed by the
young chief while superintending
the preparation of a feast to succeed
a hunting match. The Gael were
of opinion, that " to yield the sport
of their shaggy dogs to a foe" was
indelibly disgraceful; and when a gi-
gantic race of freebooters attacked
the boys of Kintail, the youthful
chieftain, with singular address and
courage, disappointed them of a
prey. The Fiannachael were ad-
venturers from the far Northern Isles,
who took possession of a cave, still
accessible in Catthu, or Sutherland,
and to this day called Uamor Frais-
ghail. It is situated in the parish of
Tongue ; and it is twenty feet wide
at the entrance, reaching near half a
mile under-ground.

The eagle of Morven's rocks bends
proudly from the sky to behold his
feathers waving over the brow of Fin-
gal and his heroes ; but loftier was
the boast of the dun-sided sons of the
forest, when their antlers drove away
the fierce rovers of ocean, or laid
them in blood on the land of trees.
Ceartnach, ancestor of the bard of
this song, was foster-father of age
and youth, while the chief of Kintail
and his men at arms were distant far,
reaping the harvest of renown.

" Shall the praise of them that rest
beneath their cairns, and the deeds
of our own hand, be all our thought
and speech?" said the white-haired
grandsires of ruddy-cheeked boys,

200

CEANEACH MACCT.ANEACII.

all impatient for that age when the
glory of battle shall gleam on their
towering helmets."

" We settle as the sickly mist of
fenny pools, without a breeze to move
our stagnant blood," said the youths.
" Give our kindling eyes to behold
the sport of our shaggy dogs in the
chase. Ceartnach is to us in place
of our absent chief. Wills he that
our sinews may stiffen before they
finish their growth?"

" Three clays, and we awaken the
stately browsers of the wilderness,"
said Ceartnach.

Lo! the cheek of age has redden-
ed in returning joys of youth, when
the dogs, bounding with their fleet
steps, and wild with the pride of the
chase, call forth all the echoes of
Kintail to proclaim the dawning day,
till hushed to silence the watchful
hound attends on the gliding pace of
the deer - stalker, concealing amid
thickets his contracted form. The
young chief, an eaglet before a flight
of mountain falcons, the young chief
gives command to the hope of his
vassals to dig the pits, and heat the
stones for an evening feast. Many
browsers of the forest have bled be-
tween the rising and setting suns of
two autumnal days. Piles of antlers
are collected to adorn the halls where
circles the shell of joy and resounds
the song of friendship. The third
evening declines ; but scarce has the
orb of light dipped his beams in the
sea, when a frowning host from the
northern den of robbers winds down
the steeps. Tall on steeds reft from
the kings of the world, not in open
fray, but in shameful deeds of rapine
in darkness, they seek a hidden
course from the south.

" Come the hollies of our cliffy
mountains to share our sport ?" said

the young chief in the quick percep-
tions of his opening soul. " No, this
is a roaming band of the Fiannachael ;
and shall the giant spoilers boast in
other lands, that their horrid faces,
with gusts of fury, bowed the young
oaks of Kintail to the earth, that we
fled before the boding storm ? Shall

the gnashing teeth of them our fa-
ts o

thers spurned from the board of wel-
come have power over the sport of
our shaggy dogs? The dumb stag-
hounds of my father would howl in
grief for our shame; and shall his
son, and the sons of his people, live
to mourn the stifling of their hardly
whispered fame? or shall our deeds
be known among the brave? The
brave die, or live in the brightness
of renown. Let the faint dawn of
our valour ascend to noon-beams of
joy in wars to come ! Let us fall, or
grow as early buds stricken by a fu-
rious squall from the north, and the
wind that has shook our branches
shall increase our strength !"

" We stand firm by our chief in
the struggle of men," said the youths,
their eyes flashing the awful fire of
their growing souls.

" Our dirks and our knives are
but as blades of grass beside the
long lances of the foe," said a fair
smiling boy. " Among you all I am
lowest in station ; but my spirit is
high. These arms shall strike at
the feet of the rovers, and they shall
fall in their pride."

" My trust is in the light of my
soul, and in the horns of the deer,"
said the young chief.

They withdrew to the skirts of the
forest, to burst forth as lightning from
a dark cloud. The robbers approach.
They press the half-sodden venison
between cloven blocks of oak. They
carouse; they scoff at the fearful

CEANEACH MACCEANEACII.

201

hunters that rolled no signs of war
on the spoilers of their gladsome
chase, and fled from the threats of
armed strangers. The Fiannachael
lay aside arms and armour, to mingle
in savage dance. Loud pours the
shouting blast from the woods. The
shock of antlers is terrible on every
side; the robbers fly, affrighted, be-
fore the sounding fays of the groan-
ing oaks. The war-cry of childhood
has reached their grandsires. The
sons of rapine meet death in their
flight. Their spoil is laid at the feet
of the young chief.

" My first beam of renown shall
not be dimmed by the plunder of
robbers," said the high - hearted
youth. " The prancing steeds alone
are my portion. They shall exalt
the name of Kintail, and my boast
shall be cean each*'''

f* Mighty on their steeds of flowing
mane, Ceaneach, and his son Mac-
ceaneach, rode before the chiefs of
every land. No dark prow of ocean
could strive against their power; and
thou, bard of the isles, my words
of truth are known to thee. Yield,
therefore, the fame of wave - tossed
planks to lofty headed steeds that
traverse all the plains, or climb the
hills, brave in heart and secure in
tread."

So spake the mainland bard; and
replies the bard of the isles:

" Truthful, all truthful, were thy
praises of Ceaneach and Maccean-
each; but high should have been their
fame, though no steed had ever
neighed or pranced in Kintail. Half
their mighty deeds were done in
wide-sailing ships, and if doubled the
amount of barks and riders of the
deep, so should have grown doubly
renown for the chiefs. The blasts
* Equestrian leader.

of winter are on the whistling dry
grass of the hills; bleak and deso-
late are the glens. Like the bosom
of swans, the wreathing snow is
glossy and cold, and a feathery co-
vering from vapoury skies repairs
the waste made by noon-day beams
on the white garb of the earth. The
river sleeps beneath an icy shroud.
No tufted heath, no winter berry is
seen on the moors or mountains; dai-k
green pine glitters in the frosty light,
and the heath-fowl draw near to the
sheltering abodes of men. The light-
footed roe and timorous hare descend
from mossy hollows of the crags; for
hunger urges them to venture life, in
shunning death by famine. Heap
the ingle with sweet-smelling birch,
and let sounds of mirth fill our halls.
Our board is rich in plenty, whether
we repose on land, or skim the wa-
ters ; and while favouring gales ad-
vance our floating castles, we send
round the quech of remembrance to
the lovely dwellers of our souls. The
hoofs of the horse are sunk in the
snow ; he struggles, he staggers, he
falls, and the bruised rider wishes
for the nobler steed whose strong
ribs and unyielding back fear no
wreathing discharge of the fleecy
clouds. She plunges in the billows
without dismay or care. She rears
her tall limbs to the skies as she
bounds along in her might with
spreading wings. Never can lack of
food retard her travel, nor scorching
thirst sink her heart. The briny
wave is her cup of joy."

" May the kindest spirits of the
deep guide her prow !" said the aged
chief. " Glad be her return to our
haven! and may the horsemen of
Kintail for ever decide the strife of
contending clans!"

" Mine be the steed warm with the

202

CEANOCII MACCEANEACH.

fire of high mettle !" said the main-
land bard. " He arches his grace-
fid neck to the caressing hand of his
rider. I lis full eye looks the response
of affection, and his kind heart speaks j
in neighings of grateful tone. I
mount his back to-day, and at such
or such an hour I promise to return:
the fleet limbs of my steed are a sure
pledge for my words. No angry genii
from the foamy surge, nor the grin-
ning ghost puffing his chilly breath
over the clouds of ocean, nor the
white-haired pale glashtii that hides
in caverns, and bursts forth to flutter
through wooded hills, sending squall
on squall to contend with the sound-
ing currents, can impede my course.
My friends behold me depart, assur-
ed of my speedy return. They look
from their lofty towers to watch my
approach, and are not disappointed."

" But my friends are with me," re-
joined the island bard. " With united
heart and arm we ply the oar, or set
the swelling sail. One spirit of bra-
very defies and overcomes the ha-
zards of the deep; and one joy spar-
kles in our glances at the feast of
shells."

"For sinking of the heart, no leech-
craft equals the mouth of song," said
the aged chief. " The fir searmo-
nacha* from Isles of Holy Vigils
came to offer comfort to the sad
chieftain, a lingering light of his
race, disabled by gathered years,
when his spirit, as the flame kindled
in a forest of dark green pines, burnt
in eagerness to lead his thousands to
the wars of Ross. He listens to the
shaven crowns with folded hands;
but they retire to their cells of gloom,
and the bards give his soul to other
times in beams of gladness."

" With age ascends the multiplied
* Fir searmonucha means preachers.

deeds of renown," said the island
bard. " The aged live again in their
race ; and the chief of Kintail hath
daughters of loveliness shining in
the castles of the mighty leaders of
clans: but when the lordofCatthu
sat feeble amidst his grey falling
locks, his heart trembled for Neamh-
nuid, the one beam of his joy.—
' Seer of times to come,' said the
weak-voiced chief, ' hie thee to Ce-
aneach Macceaneach, the early con-
queror of the Fiannachael, that now
say, Ours shall be Neamhnuid, the
pearl of beauty, and Catthu shall
mourn for the white tossing of her
arms in the Uamor Fraisghail. Cat-
thu, the brother of her that bore him
to Ceaneach, seeks a visit in armour
from Macceaneach. Let the steeds
of Kintail cross the rich waving grass
of Catthu, and his warriors wade in
blood from the opening of the Ua-
mor to dark recesses of the den of
spoil. My ships shall await him in
the eastern harbours.' As winged
arrows, Macceaneach led his steeds
across the country; because the seer
had glimpses of a pearl wrenched
from the parent shell. The ships of
Catthu spread their sails to bear in
pride the western light of the valiant.
He throws his powers upon the tall
fleet of Oilteil. But the outstretch-
ed arms of loveliness in all her tears,
over the side of a bark cutting the
waves with rapid course, excites the
rage of Macceaneach. He pursues
her hasty retreat to the Uamor. Hor-
rid faces issue from the den, and gi-
gantic forms in gleaming armour lift
the spear. The rustling arrows of
Kintail wind in blood among the fall-
ing Fiannachael. As muddy streams
gurgling from a mountain flooded by
rains of autumn, the current of life
descends from heaps of the slain:

THE UNKNOWN lUIEND.

205

but another and another furious hand
is arrayed before the cave, and the
wild tumbling struggle of men in-
clines against Kintail. Firm as wave-
lashed rocks of his own coast, Mac-
ceaneach, a path of fire amidst the
roar of danger, sends from his flash-
ing eyes the terrible beams of a grow-
ing soul. With a glance to the west
he perceives his steeds galloping to
the fight. They neigh with eager
impatience for the tumultuous strife,
and the riders dash upon the shrink-
ing Fiannachael. The men of Cat-
thu join their strokes of death: the
Uamor no longer vaunts of her tall
people. Frowning ghosts on the
wing of dark red clouds are conveyed
far to the north. The gloomy circle
of Brumo is their home; while lovely
in her humid eyes, the pearl of Cat-
thu is folded in the arms of Mac-
ceancach. He saved her from the
dreadful grasp of Oilteil, and Kin-
tail rejoices in her smiles. The race
of Macceaneach and Neamhnuid,
offspring of heroes, shall be for ever
the summer sun of their people, the
dark hurricane of the desert to their
foes. Their deeds, as streams of
light, have rolled through unnum-
bered generations. Then* ships bear
the treasure of every shore, and their
mariners are the strength of Kintail."
" The treasures wafted by winds

over blue heaving billows, and the
strength of unshaken lands, would
fail," said the mainland bard, " if
the shining garb of war on stately
steeds had never spread the renown
of Kintail. But why contend for
separate fame? As vapours float to
thin air before the rising day, so the
strife of words between friends gives
way before the beams of wisdom.
Our steeds and our ships are joined
in honour — the two hands of pow-
er to our clan — the dreadful vaults
of thunder to scatter and consume
our foes."

" It is not our steeds nor our ships
alone that brighten the leader among
assembled chiefs," said the aged
chieftain of Kintail. " The soul of
valour in our people is the light of
our paths. They urge our steeds in
the contest of men and the clangour
of battle. They guide our ships
through eddying currents, and stride
in unconquered might amidst fields
of death, or seas of danger. The
people give light to our renown."

" The chieftain is the soul of his
people !" shouted both the bardswith
one voice. " Age may bleach the
hair and weaken the sinews of a he-
ro, but his spirit, like the holly of
his mountains, grows aloft in strength
and beauty."

B. G.

THE UNKNOWN FRIEND.

Tnii following narration is not only
interesting, as affording a remarkable
illustration of the valuable qualities
of man's most faithful brute depend-
ent, the dog, but must also tend
strongly to convince even the most
sceptical, that there is not only a ge-
neral, but a particular Providence,

Vol. III. No. XVI.

permitting, directing, and overruling
all natural events.

A respectable surgeon, who resid-
ed on the borders of Cheshire, pro-
ceeded, on the 30th of December,
178^, to Heaton, near Manchester,
to render professional assistance to a
lady during her confinement. By

E E

2G4

THE UNKNOWN IIUF.ND.

this duty he was detained till about
twelve o'clock in the night of the 1st
of January, 1783, when the doctor,
being anxious to return home, and,
moreover, remarkably attached to
the exercise of walking, determined
to set out immediately on foot, not-
withstanding the remonstrances of
his patient, who reminded him that
it would be extremely dangerous to
travel at so late an hour, on account
of the many drunken people on the
road. He likewise declined the offer
of a horse, and the company of a
servant as a safeguard.

It was a frosty starlight night,
and nothing particular occurred to
him on his way from Ileaton to Man-
chester; but on passing Mr. Swann's
warehouse, nearly opposite to the
New Cross, a large buff-coloured
mastiff came snuffing about his legs
and heels. He at first conceived
that the dog was the protector of the
warehouse, and had mistaken him
for a thief; and having in his prac-
tice repeatedly witnessed the dread-
ful effects resulting from the bites
of dogs, became greatly alarmed,
lest he should be torn in pieces by
him. After somewhat recovering from
his apprehensions, he spoke in sooth-
ing terms to conciliate the animal,
and proceeded slowly into Oldham-
street, but was astonished to find
that the dog still followed close to
his heels. Being about half-way along
the street, the surgeon desired him
in a commanding manner to be gone :
to this he paid not the slightest at-
tention. When opposite to the In-
firmary, he endeavoured by severe
threats to induce the animal to leave
him, but with no better success. Per-
ceiving that the dog evinced no re-
sentment at such treatment, the sur-
geon resolved that he would not in-

terfere with him any more ; and the
animal, in the same manner, still con-
tinued to follow him.

In walking along the footpath on
the right-hand side, which was sepa-
rated from the high-road by posts
and railing, at a little distance from
Shooter's Brook, he saw four men in
the road going towards Manchester,
two abreast, about twenty yards from
each other. When the two first had
passed him, he observed the others
creep under the railing; and, on look-
ing back, perceived that the first two
had got into his rear, and were fast
advancing: thus he was completely
surrounded by them. One of the
first two, who had crossed over in
his front, on the surgeon's near ap-
proach, stretched out his arm to col-
lar him, and called out " Stop!" The
doctor struck the aggressor's arm,
which caused him to miss, his hold,
and replied, " Stop! for what?" —
" Get into that house, and we'll let
you know," answered one of the vil-
lains, pointing to a new unfinished
house, without doors or windows.
The surgeon told them that if he
met with any further interruption, he
would set his dog at them; but this
threat did not in the least intimidate
the ruffians: two of them advanced
to lay hold of him, on which he call-
ed to the dog, " Heigh, lad, seize 'em!
seize 'em!" The animal immediately
flew upon the breast and throat of
the foremost, levelled him instantly
with the ground, and in falling, he
knocked down the other. The sur-
geon conceiving that this was the
proper moment to retreat, ran as far
as the Robin Hood Inn at Bank Top,
where his faithful strange companion
came up with him, out of breath
from the contest.

Gratitude to his deliverer now

LETTER FROM MR. COMP.K TO J. J. ROUSSF.AU.

205

made the surgeon desirous of retain-
ing his new friend; and between
Chorlton-row and Rusholme he ex-
perienced another slight interruption
from a man who had something up-
on his shoulder, which the doctor be-
lieved to be a gun, and who called out
to him to proceed no further. The
surgeon told him, if he advanced much
nearer to him, his dog should tear
him in pieces, as he had done two
villains near Shooter's Brook. This
menace had the desired effect; and
having reached his home, he exa-
mined his singular friend and pro-
tector very minutely, gave him plenty
of victuals, and took him into a sta-
ble to rest till morning, with a parti-
cular injunction to that part of his
family who were waiting up, to de-
sire the servant when she went to
the stable not to let the dog escape.
This caution, however, was not com-
municated to the servant, who open-
ed the stable-door in the morning
as usual, when he rushed out, terri-
fied the poor woman, leaped over
the yard-gate, and was never seen
afterwards ; neither could it be ever

traced to whom he belonged, whence
he came, or whither he went.

Though this narrative may to some
appear improbable, yet we are as-
sured that every circumstance con-
tained in it is strictly true.

An instance of a similar nature
occurred several years ago near
Leeds. One Sunday night, about
half-past ten o'clock, Mr. Thomas
Robinson, of Little London, near that
town, was returning home from Leeds,
when he was joined by a large dog,
who fondled upon him, and accompa-
nied him on the way. Without pay-
ing much attention to his canine com-
panion, he proceeded to cross the
lonely fields between Potter's Aims-
Houses and Grove-House, where he
was attacked by a footpad, who,
seizing him by the collar of his coat,
demanded his money. Then it was
that he discovered the value of a
friend ; for the dog of his own ac-
cord laid hold of the robber, who,
finding himself thus unexpectedly
assailed, quitted his grasp, and was
glad to effect his escape without his
booty.

LETTER TO JEAN JAQUES ROUSSEAU.

The following letter is extracted from the manuscript papers of the late William
Combe, Esq. to whose pen the Repository has been indebted for many of its
pages. It is addressed to Rousseau, whose aversion to society, we might almost
say misanthropy, is well known, evidently with a view to awaken in his bosom
more kindly feelings, and to reconcile him with his species. Whether it has ever
appeared in print we have now no means of ascertaining : as a relic worthy of the
author of Dr. Syntux, our subscribers will, we are confident, be gratified with its
preservation in our Miscellany. — Editor.

I write to you from that world
which you call a desert ! If you have,
by any means, discovered it to be the
habitation of monsters, I pity and
lament you ; while I cannot but con-
gratulate myself in having made so
great a progress in my journey through
it without the same fatal experience.

But surely the man who lives in a
corner of the world should not de-
termine so rashly of the whole race
of men! His retirement, in a great
measure, exempts him from all inter-
course with it; and if he will people
a world he does not see with mon-
sters that never existed, the world
E i; 2

206

LETTER FROM MR, COMBE TO J. /. ROUSSEAU.

and its monsters must be the offspring
of his own fancy, the coinage of an
enthusiastic brain, which, brooding
over its own gloomy visions, pro-
duces images equally destitute of
pleasure and reality.

You will ask me, if I have not
known unjust and ungrateful men:
these you will tell me are the mon-
sters of the world; these are the
beasts of prey which make it a desert.
I will acknowledge, my friend, that
I have experienced injustice and in-
gratitude; but, at the same time, I
must inform you, that I have been
the happy object of kindness and
benevolence. I have known more
of the latter than the former, yet I
do not call the world a Paradise ; you
have experienced more of the former
than the latter, and you persist in
declaring it to be a desert. You
are like the Arab or the Ethiop, who,
having seen nothing but his own bar-
ren plains and sandy shores, may
imagine that the whole globe bears
the same dreary appearance; but he
who has ventured beyond their dus-
ty limits into the world, and seen the
fertile gardens of it, will deplore their
ignorance. He who examines only
one or the other will form false ideas
and idle conclusions. The moral
as well as the natural world possess-
es very different and opposite quali-
ties: the good and evil of the one are
like the fruitful and barren scenes
of the other; and the mixture is, I
doubt not, essential to both.

You will, perhaps, ask me again,
if I have not experienced the injus-
tice and ingratitude of which you
complain; and I answer by another
question, whether you have not met
with the contrary virtues? I know
you have. But, waving the subject,
and getting away from the perplexi-

ties which must ever attend the qiics-
tions concerning the existence of
evil in the world, I only wish to
press this opinion upon your convic-
tion— that as there is an undoubted
mixture of good and evil, it is our
duty and our interest to make that
use of them both which may best
contribute to our own welfare and
honour.

I write to a philosopher; and in
order to give him every advantage,
I mean, for once, to reason upon the
principles of that philosophy which
assumes the power of rising superior
to popular opinions and religious
professions. This philosophy, I be-
lieve, will allow, that the good and
evil in the world is the contrivance
of the Supreme Governor of it; that
it is the result of infinite power and
wisdom. If this be granted, good
and evil must be necessary to that
beautiful whole of things, whereof
we ourselves are such a considerable
part.

The First Cause you will acknow-
ledge to be good ; and it cannot be
an attribute of goodness to create
sensible beings to be miserable : the
good and evil of the world therefore
are our own to receive or cast from
us; and this being the truth, we have
no right to complain of our own do-
ings, because, if we are miserable,
we must be the fabricators of our
own misery. But this by the way.
I do not purpose, believe me, to en-
ter the lists of disputation with such
a powerful antagonist as yourself,
were you even disposed to so great
a condescension as to join with me in
the discussion of any subject wherein
I might differ from you : but I sin-
cerely wish to extricate the world
and its inhabitants from the disgrace
which you have thrown upon them

LETTER FROM Mil. COMBE TO .T. .T. ROUSSEAU.

207

both ; or, at least, to excuse myself
for having a better opinion of those
with whom I am to travel that jour-
ney in which you and I and all man-
kind are engaged. We are, my
friend, on the high-road of life; and
surely nothing can be more condu-
cive to our comfort than to think
well of those who travel with us.
For my own part, I should consider
that man as the greatest enemy to
my peace, who should endeavour to
persuade me that those I love, for
whom I feel the most tender senti-
ments, and who have long been the
objects of my best affections, possess
the basest natures. You cannot con-
fide in mankind, and you retreat
from them. I shall not inquire whe-
ther the fault is in you or in them ;
it is sufficient, as you love them not,
that you retire from them. In this
you are at least consistent; and if
you are really satisfied, I have no
right to aim even at correcting an
opinion, which, however contrary it
may be to mine, you have sanctified
to yourself.

But though I cannot allow the
world to be a desert, I will meet you
half way — I will call it a solitude.
Indeed I feel it to be one; and I
believe, that at some period or other
of existence, either from the loss of
friends, the change of fortune, the
infirmities of nature, or the close of
life, this is the situation of every
human being. I am at this moment,
like you, in a crowded and populous
city, where pleasure is the object of
universal idolatry; where all are
fluttering towards the same enjoy-
ments, and involved in the same dis-
sipations: yet I feel myself alone
amid all the tumults of it. I there-
fore recommence my letter. I write
to you from this solitude, the world ;

or, I should rather say, from one
corner of it to another. Believe me,
my friend, that if your letter had not
afforded me a subject, I should have
been very much at a loss how to
have addressed, or what to have
said to you. Time and chance have
so ordered matters with me, that it
is long, long since I have written a
letter of friendship or sentiment. My
pen is so unaccustomed to the busi-
ness, that it trails heavily along the
paper, and I scarcely know how to
conduct it to those pleasing purposes
of affection which were once its best
and dearest office. When we first
knew each other, I was surrounded
with a crowded throng, who called
themselves my friends: — my friends
they were while Fortune rode in my
chariot with me: but I do not com-
plain. Fortune did not abandon
me, I deserted Fortune, and, with
the goddess, the crowds which sur-
round her altars. In leaving For-
tune I lost, it is true, a few pleasing
though shadowy connections; but I
was restored to myself, and to my-
self I have lived almost the whole
of that interval which has fled away
since we were wont to pass so many
pleasant hours together. My for-
mer life is a vision, which is now al-
most effaced, and there is little left
of it but the ghosts of friendships
now no more; and when I venture
to open my lattice and look into the
world, I miss so many of those faces
which were so pleasant to behold,
and see others so changed by time
and sorrow, that I am disposed to
shut my window hi haste, and with-
draw from so mortifying and sad a
prospect.

The man who has for some years
lived in retirement, finds the world
on his return to it to be more a soli-

208

Lr:fTi:ii from mu. Combc to j. j. housskau.

tude, than even that corner wherein
lie had nursed himself in obscurity.
They who live in the hurry of it, when
one connection fails, supply them-
selves with another, so that the rota-
tion of the human race passes on
without their making any observation
upon it. But he who, like myself,
makes a casual return to the large
society of mankind, finds himself, as
I do, alone. Of the numerous bands
of friends which he left in the world,
some, like myself, have retired from
it; some are distracted amid the cares
of it; others are labouring under the
pressure of disease; many are chang-
ed by a long series of troubles ; and
the greater part are sheltered from
care, disease, and trouble in the
grave. Thus he finds himself in
the midst of the crowded world;
pressed as he may be in the throng
of it, he is still alone. In this soli-
tude am I. New parts are perform-
ing upon the stage by actors whose
names I never heard, whose voices I
do not know, and whose language I
do not understand. Amid this scene
of things so truly uninteresting to
me, what can I procure either of
sentiment or intelligence which will
be a fit offering for you? I look into
the world; but what is to be found
in a solitude ? When I ask my heart,
my heart has nothing but good wish-
es: they, I must acknowledge, have
some little merit, for they are accom-
panied with truth and sincerity. I
do not flatter, because I do not mean
to insult you. Flattery is the off-
spring of interest and deceit ; and I
can have no inducement to flatter a
man who has it not in his power to
gratify me in any thing which flat-
tery is used to procure ; and where-
fore should I try to deceive him who

prefers poverty to riches, and obscu-
rity to fame?

I may now tell you, that I most sin-
cerely admire and respect those ta-
lents with which God has blessed
you, and how much I wish that you
would employ them during the re-
mainder of your life to the noble
purposes of virtue. Of the power
which your pen has over the human
passions, Heloise is a striking but
sad example: the pleasing poison
which pervades every page of those
alluring volumes has ruined so many
innocent minds, that it is your duty
to hold forth an antidote to its disas-
trous power. I doubt not but your
purpose was virtue: vice, however,
has been the consequence of it. Ex-
ert your powers in counteracting the
effects of your darling work ! Yes, I
would counsel you to become an un-
natural parent. I conjure you, in
the sacred name of virtue, to hasten
and destroy your favourite offspring!
O Rousseau, if deformity in your
hands becomes lovely, how would
you adorn beauty ! If you could make
vice appear amiable, what irresistible
allurements could you give to virtue !
You have the peculiar art of bending
the passions of your readers to your
will. I do not wish you to aim at
extinguishing them, but to direct
them to the noblest objects of this
world, and the most sublime hopes
of the next.

You believe in an immortal state :
what then can be so noble an under-
taking as the endeavour to make
mankind and yourself worthy of its
happiness ? You believe that you are
an accountable being; and do you
not think that you will one day be
asked why, while your works are
making havoc in the destruction of

LKTTEll FROM MR. COMRi: TO J. J, ROUSSEAU.

209

innocence throughout great part of
Europe, you are copying music in a
garret, instead of counteracting by
your utmost and continued exertions
the pernicious effects of them? \ou
believe, nay, you assure me, that you
have every reason to believe that
your life hastens to its period ; and
can you employ the close of it with
more honour and comfort, than by
discovering new sources of benevo-
lence and goodness ? In such an em-
ployment there is consolation for
every distress, and a balm for every
wound. You complain of misfortune
and affliction : O Rousseau, love man-
kind and be happy !

But if, from habit and a peculiar
frame of mind, you feel sometimes an
irresistible propensity to tears and
lamentation, weep over human errors ;
lament human infirmities ; lament, but
cease to rail at them! Railing does
no good to any cause, especially to
that of virtue. Again I repeat,
Rousseau, love mankind and be hap-
py! To prove this assertion more
fully, I must have recourse to an
unpleasing subject — I must speak of
myself. I have neither fortune nor
friends; I have neither father nor
mother, nor brother nor sister ; I do
not possess the more endearing ties
of life, and those which are sup-
posed to conduce most to its felicity —
I mean the connections of marriage
and of children: and yet, without all
these various objects of human pur-
suit, I am happy and contented, per-
fectly resigned to my lot and condi-
tion, and should exceedingly repine
at the being obliged to change it with
any one person in the world, however
loaded and adorned he might be
with honours, riches, and greatness.
I pity every one's infirmities; I laugh
with those who laugh, and weep with

those who weep. I adore Virtue
wherever I find her, and pray that
she may soon take up her dwelling
where I find her not; and while I
have the flame of universal friend-
ship to warm my heart, and the ray
of fancy to cheer my solitary hours,
may heaven, in its good pleasure,
shower down titles and coronets up-
on those heads which are aching for
them, and leave me, in its mercy, to
obscurity and to myself; and when I
shall die, if perchance a kindred spi-
rit should wish to perpetuate my
name beyond the grave, may he write
upon the stone that covers me, " Here
lies one who was a lover of man-
kind ;" or if I could deserve that title
J which contains the sum of human
l good and perfection, " Here lies a
Christian." If therefore you would
love mankind, become a Christian.
| You will tell me, that you are already
of that denomination, and that you
breathe its spirit of comprehensive
and universal benevolence. If that
; be the case, why will not Rousseau
practise it? Why will he withdraw
himself from the pleasures and du-
ties of social converse ? Why, when
| he might be exercising his surprising
j talents for the delight and instruction
i of his fellow -creatures, when he
i might be dispelling the mists of error
i that encircle truth, and giving to vir-
'• tue its most engaging dress, why is
j he cynically retreating from the world,
■ and copying music in a garret? Why
! does he give up the duties of a Chris-
i tian for those of a machine ? These
are questions, my dear Rousseau —
but it is time for me to draw to a
conclusion.

As we are situated in this world,
in all human probability we shall
never meet each other again. My
eyes, I fear, have looked upon you

210

NOTIONS OF UNCIVILIZED NATIONS RELATIVE TO WRITING.

for the last time; they will behold
you no more ; and as in my vainest
moments I can have no reason to
suppose that you will give me any
written acknowledgment of this long
letter, I must consider it as a last
farewell to you. Adieu! my dear

friend! Consult the dignity of your
nature and your character. Cease
to act unworthy of your nature as a
man, and your character as a Chris-
tian. O Rousseau, I bid you once
more adieu! My last valediction is
— love mankind, and be happy !

let

NOTIONS OF UNCIVILIZED NATIONS RELATIVE TO

WRITING.

It is amusing to contemplate the
effects produced on the minds of sa-
vage nations by the arts and inven-
tions of civilized life, many of which
would have appeared not less asto-
nishing and supernatural to our an-
cestors four or five centuries back,
than they do at present to the unen-
lightened, children of Nature. By
some of these, the communication of
facts and thoughts by means of writ-
ing has been deemed nothing less
than enchantment and magic.

We are informed that when the
Missionaries in Labrador read to the
Esquimaux a declaration of friend-
ship from the governor of Newfound-
land, they shrunk with affright if the
paper was offered for their inspection.
They supposed it must contain a liv-
ing principle, since it could convey
the thoughts of a man so far distant;
and that this invisible spirit might
happen to take offence and chastise
them, though they had not intended
to provoke him.

Mr. Mariner has given an enter-
taining account of the embarrass-
ment which Finow, the King of the
Tonga Islands, felt, on learning that
writing was capable of communicat-
ing sentiments. It was a letter writ-
ten by the former that involved him
in this inexplicable puzzle. After
the purport of it had been explained
to him, he took up the letter, and

examined it again and again; but it
afforded him no information. He
thought a little within himself, but
his thoughts reflected no light upon
the subject. At length he sent for
Mr. Mariner, and desired him to
write down something. The latter
asked what he would chuse to have
written: he replied, " Put down me."
He accordingly wrote' Feenow, spell-
ing it according to the strict English
orthography. The chief then sent
for another Englishman who had not
been present, and commanding Ma-
riner to turn his back and look ano-
ther way, he gave the man the pa-
per, and desired him to tell what it
was. He accordingly pronounced
aloud the name of the king, on which
Finow snatched the paper from his
hand, looked at it with astonishment,
turned it round and examined it in
all directions, at length exclaiming,
" This is neither like myself nor any
body else! Where are my eyes?
where is my head? where are my legs?
how can you possibly know it to be
I?" and then, without stopping for
any attempt at explanation, he impa-
tiently ordered Mr. Mariner to write
something else; and thus employed
him for three or four hours in putting
down the names of different persons,
places, and things, and making the
other man read them.

This afforded extraordinary diver-

ACCOUNT OF MADEMOISELLE IDE LAUNAY.

2:11

sion to Finow, and to all the men and
women present, particularly as he
now and then whispered a little love
anecdote, which was strictly written
down, and audibly read by the other,
not a little to the confusion of some
of the ladies present; but it was all
taken in good-humour, for curiosity
and astonishment were the prevailing
passions. How their names and cir-
cumstances could be communicated
through so mysterious a channel, was
altogether past their comprehension.
Finow had long before made up his
opinion of books and papers, and
this as much resembled witchcraft as
any thing he had ever seen or heard of.
Mariner in vain attempted to ex-
plain, but his knowledge of the lan-
guage was yet too slender to enable
him to make himself clearly under-
stood. Finow at length imagined
that he had discovered the mystery,
and observed to those about him, that
it was very possible to put down a
mark or sign of something that had
been seen both by the writer and
reader, and which should be mutu-
ally understood by them ; but Mari-
ner immediately informed him, that he
could write down any thing he had
never seen. The king directly whis-
pered to him to put Toogoo Ahoo,
the King of Tonga, whom he and
his brother had assassinated many
years before Mariner's arrival. This
was accordingly done, and the other
read it; when Finow was still more
astonished, and declared it to be the
most wonderful thing he had ever
heard of.

He then desired him to write the
name of Tarky, chief of the garri-
son of Bea, whom Mariner and his
companions had not yet seen, and
who was blind of one eye. When
" Tarky" was read, Finow inquired
whether he was blind or not. This
was putting writing to an unfair test;
and Mariner told him that he had
only written down the sign standing
for the sound of the name, and not
for the description of the person.
He was then ordered to write, " Tar-
ky, blind in his left eye," which was
done, and read, to the increased as-
tonishment of every body.

Mr. Mariner then told him, that,
in several parts of the world, messa-
ges were sent to great distances
through the same medium ; and be-
ing folded and fastened up, the bear-
er could not know any thing of the
contents; and that the histories of
whole nations were thus handed down
to posterity, without spoiling by being
kept. Finow acknowledged this to
be a most noble invention ; but added,
that it would not do at all for the Ton-
ga Islands, as there would be nothing
but disturbances and conspiracies,
and he should not be sure of his life
perhaps another month. He con-
fessed,at the same time, that he should
like to know it himself, and for all
the women to know it, that he might
make love with less risk of discovery,
and not so much chance of having
his brains knocked out by their hus-
bands.

ACCOUNT OF MADEMOISELLE DE LAUNAY, AFTER-
WARDS MADAME DE STAAL.

This lady, who was born without
fortune, received, through the bene-
volence of a lady who had adopted

Vol. III. No. XVI.

her, a very brilliant education ; but,
deprived by death of her benefac-
tress before she had attained her six-

F F

i\i

ACCOUNT OF MADEMOISELLE DE LAUNAY.

teenth year, she was obliged to ac-
cept a situation much below her me-
rits, that of ' femme-de-chambre to the
Duchess of Maine. One part of her
employment was to do needle-work,
and nothing could exceed her em-
barrassment when she was required
to make a set of chemises for the
duchess: until then she had done
only fancy works, and she had not
the least idea of cutting out such a
garment. Apprehensive of betray-
ing her ignorance, she set about her
task with fear and trembling; and
when the duchess went to put on her
chemise, she found upon her shoul-
der that part of the sleeve which be-
longed to the elbow.

Mad. de Staal, in speaking of the
duchess, said, " I have a hundred
times admired the patience with which
this princess, whose temper was na-
turally quick, supported my blunders.
The first time she asked me for a
glass of water, in my hurry to obey
her, I threw the water over her, in-
stead of putting it into the glass. I
was extremely short - sighted ; and
this defect, joined to the flutter in
which I always found mjself when-
ever I approached the duchess, made
me seem devoid of all understand-
ing, so that I did not perform the
most trifling thing properly. One
day when the duchess was dressing,
she asked me for the powder: I took
the box by the lid, which of course
came off in my hand, and the box
falling on the toilet, the powder was
scattered all over it, and on the prin-
cess, who said to me, in a very gentle
tone, ' When you want to" lift some-
thing, it will be better to take it by
the bottom.' I took care to remem-
ber this lesson : but, alas! I was not
more fortunate for attending to it;
for, some days afterwards, when she

asked me for her purse, I took it by
the bottom, and was astonished when
I saw the hundred louis which it con-
tained rolling over the floor. I could
not help exclaiming, ' Ah, good hea-
ven! I no longer know in what man-
ner to take hold of any thing!' "

A circumstance soon occurred
which shewed the talents of Made-
moiselle de Launay, and procured
for her the favour of the duchess, as
well as that of many persons of dis-
tinction. A young lady had, by the
advice of her mother, pretended to
be possessed by a demon, and Fonte-
nelle had been the dupe of the im-
posture. Mademoiselle de Launay
wrote to him on the subject; and the
wit and pleasantry with which she
rallied him on his credulity, gave him
a high opinion of her talents. He
shewed her letter, spoke of her ad-
vantageously, and from that moment
she was considered in the first cir-
cles as a bel-esprit. The Duchess
of Maine made use of her talents in
all the fetes which she gave at Sce-
aux. All the arrangements and the
decorations of these parties were di-
rected by her taste: she was even
pressed into the service of the Muses ;
she wrote a comedy in verse, which
was performed on one of these oc-
casions.

This career of gaiety was, how-
ever, interrupted by an event as un-
foreseen as it was cruel. A conspiracy
was discovered against the Duke of
Orleans, then regent: the Duchess
of Maine was implicated in it; she
was shut up in the castle of Dijon,
and Mademoiselle de Launay was
sent to the Bastille. In speaking of
this event, she says, that the sudden
manner in which she was carried oft*
had so completely deprived her of all
presence of mind, that she did not

DI'.SULTOUY THOUGHTS ON NATAL DAYS.

213

think of taking with her even a change
of linen ; and a few days after-
wards, she was obliged to get her
j-oame-de-chambrc, who had accom-
panied her, to wash in a hand-bason
her cap, neck - handkerchief, &c.
while she herself was obliged to make
a coiffure of a white pocket-hand-
kerchief. What a costume to re-
ceive for the first time the visit of a
gentleman to whom she was a stran-
ger! She was, nevertheless, obliged
to admit him; for it was the governor
of the Bastille, who, in spite of the
dishabille in which she was forced to
receive him, was so smitten with her
charms, that he wholly devoted him-
self to the task of lightening her cap-
tivity by every means that he could
devise.

This gentleman exhibited a singu-
lar instance of the blindness of love:
he told Mademoiselle de Launay,
that all her fellow-prisoners were so
charmed with her, that they could
talk of nothing else, and that wher-
ever he paid a visit, the discourse ran
wholly upon her. He was not con-
scious that the subject was always
introduced by himself, and the others,
who were naturally desirous of giv-
ing him pleasure, followed his lead.
The captivity of Mademoiselle de
Launay took place in December
1718, and it was not till February

1720, that she regained her liberty,
and became again attached to the
suite of the Duchess of Maine.
Shortly afterwards, she was address-
ed by the celebrated Dacier,who had
been some time a widower; but this
offer was not agreeable to the duch-
ess, who insisted upon her espousing
Monsieur de Staal, lieutenant in the
Swiss guards. The duchess most
probably made this match from the
desire of placing Mademoiselle de
Launay in a station that would jus-
tify the princess in elevating her to
}herank of her lady of honour, which
she became immediately on her mar-
riage. It does not appear from the
portrait which Madame de Staal has
left us of her husband, that he was
of a character to attach a woman of
her lively and ardent temper. " Na-
turally well disposed, and free from
the stormy influence of passion, he
constantly did right, as much per-
haps from temperament as principle.
His temper was always equal ; his
views were sound, because they were
neither obscured by passion nor pre-
judice. His ideas were rather just
than abundant; he spoke little, but
always to the purpose. In short, he
might be characterized as a man with
whom one could not justly find fault,
but in whose society one never felt
any lively emotions of pleasure."

DESULTORY THOUGHTS ON THE ARRIVAL AND
CELEBRATION OF NATAL DAYS.

How various are the feelings ex-
cited in the human mind by the arri-
val of a birthday! In infancy, to be
sure, it is not properly understood ;
but the effect and impressions of a
birthday in very early life are never-
theless well remembered, and often j
with a sensation approaching to bit- j

terness, by the adult, the middle-
aged, and the old. When surrounded
perhaps by a splendid party; when all
that wealth can purchase loads and
decorates a man's table; when music,
vocal and instrumental, strives to lull
his senses; when beauty and friend-
ship appear to unite to make his birth-
F i 2

214

DESULTORY THOUGHTS ON NATAL DAYS.

dny a happy one: yet how often does
the person thus attended by all that
the world would deem desirable, look
back with envy and regret to his
humbler boyhood; to the simple ad-
ditional plum-pudding or apple-pie,
and to the invitation of two or three
cousins or schoolfellows, that alone
marked his natal day! And why is
this? Not because he is a bad man;
not because he is in want, for the ve-
ry reverse of want is probably his
situation ; not because he is without
a friend, for he may have many, rare
as they certainly are: but because
his life is in the wane ; because age
has begun to blanch his hair, and to
rob him of his faculties and enjoy-
ments, he looks back to the bright-
ness and beauty of all that early
youth presented to him ; to the re-
membered hour when he wished to
be older, much older, than he was,
that he might become a man — now,
alas ! he is an old man !

The case I have put is that of an
old man, but not a guilty one. To
the tainted mind in advanced age,
the coming of a birthday must be
perhaps the most hateful thing that
can be imagined : willingly would
such a being forget that he had ever
been young, innocent, and happy;
willingly would he cease to remem-
ber, that a fond father and mother
had bent over his infant form, and
breathed a prayer to heaven for his
welfare and happiness, when the
youthful anniversary of his birth re-
turned. Then his hopes and feel-
ings were buoyant; he looked for-
ward himself with anxious hope to
the completion of then' prayers: but
now, on looking back, he either be-
holds a wretched void, where good
might have been done, but was neg-
lected, or he sees every variety of

crime and wrong fill up the melan-
choly space of his departed years;
he hears the groans and sighs of the
widow and the orphan whom he has
injured, the execrations of the wrong-
ed and ruined friend, or the dying
shrieks of some fond woman who
trusted to his honour but to perish.
What can, what might to be such a
man's feelings on his birthday? Just
what they are, depend upon it. —
He has that within which can and
will tell him of all the injuries he has
done, with deep and desolate aggra-
vation.

There is something very delight-
ful in witnessing the careless and
happy feeling which pervades the
youthful mind on a birthday. Sur-
rounded by friends (young and old),
all of whom are wishing health, hap-
piness, and success to the beginner
of life, he thinks of little beyond the
enjoyment of the moment; or if he
does, it is perhaps only to wish for
another such celebration and day of
jollity and mirth ; unknowing that the
time will too soon arrive, when he
may either wish his years to be sta-
tionary, or that they could travel
back with him to youth and youthful
pleasures.

" When first our scanty years are told,
It seems like pastime to grow old j
And as youth counts the shining links

That Time around him binds so fast,
Pleas'd with the task, he little thinks

How hard that chain will press at last."

There have been men egotistical
and vain enough to boast in old age,
that were their time to come over
again, they would live and act just
as they had lived and acted; but I
apprehend that the number of such
boasters is very scanty. General-
ly speaking, men only regret that
they cannot live over their days again,

CONCENTRATED SUNBEAMS.

i\5

that they might be able to act very
differently from what they had done.
Who is there among ns that has not
something to mourn over — time
wasted, love spurned, good counsel
neglected, talents misapplied, wrong
desires cherished, or some such thing,
even though it may be very short of
direct crime, yet enough to make
them sorry they have not time allow-
ed for reparation? Men with feelings
such as these are apt to exclaim
with the poet:

" Oh! give me back those joyous hours,
When life's gay path was deck'd with tlow'rs,

And grief was but a name,
And I'll relinquish all the joys
That manhood boasts ; they teem with noise,

And oft are fraught with shame.

" Not so the pleasures boyhood knew:
On wings of bliss the moments flew,

The blood with rapture tingled;
And never with the smile of joy.
To fill the breast with base alloy,

The pang of sorrow mingled."

A man about the middle of life is
perhaps, if happily married, and
with a few children, the most placid
and calm on his birthday: he is not
too old. to enjoy the gaieties allowed
to his friends, his offspring, and his
servants on that day; neither is he
old enough to be melancholy and pee-
vish at the lapse of time; he has
" Love's true light to guide him"
through this vale of trouble and of
tears ; he is happy

" In that dear home, that saving ark,"

which keeps man from the over-
whelming turbulence of the floods of
sin and passion that the world is too
full of: for when all without is dark-
ness and tempest, he can turn to that
one blessed bosom, which will shelter
him to the best of its ability, and
hush his wounded spirit into peace.
J. M. Lacey.

CONCENTRATED SUNBEAMS.

Address of the Solar Company.
In this moist and variable climate, and melted down

where the damp of the air extends
even to the animal spirits, every one
complains of the state of the atmo-
sphere. For a great part of the year,
time has its wings so befogged, that
it appears scarcely to stir. Phcebus
goes muffled up in a close carriage,
reserving the light of his countenance
for the antipodes; the dripping hours
move tardily along, and all nature
seems oppressed with ennui. And
is it not enough to drive one mad,
to be pent up day after day in a close
suffocating room; or, if one ventures
out of doors, to be compelled to ex-
pose those delicate organs, the lungs,
to the laborious task of pumping in
and out a mass of hydrocarbonated
fog, of consistency sufficient to choke

for soft water?
" Oh! for the clear skies of Italy!"
exclaims my Lady Sensitive. " Oh !
for a few beams from that sun which
I used to wish at the devil full ten
times a day!" cries the shivering Na-
bob. These desiderata, which, for
the greater part of the year, appear
altogether out of the reach of the
inhabitants of these islands, it is the
object of the Solar Company to sup-
ply; and for this purpose they have,
with the permission of the East In-
dia Company, established on the plains
of Trichinopoly a manufactory for
the concentration of sunbeams, which,
by an ingenious process, are reduced
into an inconceivably small compass,
and rendered capable of being trans-
ported to any part of the globe, with-

a chain-pump, or to be cut into slices, out injury to, or diminution of, their

216

CONCENTRATED SUNBEAMS.

power. A considerable quantity of
these concentrated sunbeams, care-
fully packed in cast metal cases, and
hermetically sealed, are now exposed
for sale at the Company's warehouses,
and are offered to the public in full
confidence of their unrivalled pro-
perties.

By possessing the concentrated
sunbeams, one may at any time com-
mand a clear atmosphere, the heat
or brilliancy of which may be increas- ,
ed ad libitum. A few inches of the
commodity will be sufficient to illu-j
minate a large room in the most
gloomy weather, and by an almost
magical operation, even convert win- ;
ter into summer. Of what infinite
advantage must then such a disco-
very be to the inhabitants of a coun-
try which wants but a genial climate
to render it a Paradise !

The concentrated sunbeams will
not only have the effect of affording
to those who use them a kind of per-
petual spring or summer, but will,
when so required, turn night into
day ; and thereby supersede the use
of gas, oil, or candle, or any other
means of illumination now in practice,
and will prevent the necessity of coal
in the heating of rooms; for it is clear
that, when filled with sunbeams, an
apartment must be sufficiently warm
without the use of fires. The sav-
ing thus accruing to the public is in-
calculable, and in the article of coal
in particular it must prove of the ut-
most importance ; it being ascertain-
ed by our geologists, that, upon the
present rate of expenditure, there
is not more than eight hundred years'
consumption remaining in the coun-
try.

It was naturally to be supposed
that the Gas Companies, which now
possess the contract for lighting the

metropolis, would have set their faces
against this discovery, and have done
every thing in their power to thwart
the views of the Solar Company;
and it cannot be wondered at, if for
a time they acted upon a principle
of self-defence. It is, however, but
justice to these respectable and opu-
lent bodies to say, that, since they
have come to a correct knowledge
of the unrivalled properties of the
concentrated sunbeams, and of the
futility of opposing this wonderful
step in the useful arts, they have,
with a liberality deserving of applause
and of imitation, voluntarily come
forward to promote the object of the
Solar Company, and thereby the
interests of the nation at large. With
this view they are actually in treaty
for a supply of the concentrated sun-
beams, to be used in lighting the
streets of the metropolis; it having
been proved to their satisfaction, that
the sunbeams can be afforded at a
rate infinitely cheaper than the ma-
nufacture of gas; and, without doubt,
this example will be followed by all
the towns in the kingdom.

The superiority in the beauty and
brilliancy of the light from the con-
centrated sunbeams, to that of all
other kinds of illumination, cannot
for a moment be disputed. Indeed
it would be little less than impious
to compare the light produced by an
article of man's manufacture to that
derived from the fountain of light it-
self. It also possesses this amazing
advantage, namely, that it contains
no combustible properties, so that it
may even come in contact with gun-
i powder without causing explosion.
| What a protection is this against the
i ravages of that destructive element,
j fire! and of what incalculable advan-
! tage must it prove in the working of

COXCKNTltATKD SUNl'.EAMS.

i\l

the numerous mines of this country,
where, notwithstanding the great dis-
coveries of Sir Humphrey Davy, the
lives of so many of our fellow-crea-
tures are still in jeopardy!

The concentrated sunbeams will
also prove of singular use in hot and
green houses. The superiority in the
flavour of fruitripened by these means
must be beyond all question. In
fact, the application of the concen-
trated sunbeams to this purpose is
but an extension of the powers of
nature.

The change in the atmosphere of
a room caused by the concentrated
sunbeams will be found to operate
powerfully on the animal spirits. Per-
sons, therefore, subject to the blue
devils, should never be without a
portion of this commodity in their
pockets, whereby they may always
avert a fit of this prevailing disease
of our climate. A vial of the same
let loose in a room will enliven the
dullest company, and brighten up
every countenance with joy and glad-
ness. Like eau de luce, it may be
canned about in a smelling-bottle,
and administered to persons labour-
ing under nervousness or depression
of spirits, to whom it will prove an
effectual and instantaneous restora-
tive; and in this manner may rescue
many an unfortunate fellow-creature
from an untimely death. It is, there-
fore, with this view especially recom-
mended to the attention of the Hu-
mane Society.

Any person wishing to cut a shine
in company may, before lie enters a
room, rub his face with a solution of
the concentrated sunbeams, which
will throw a kind of halo around him,
endue him with the grace of an Apol-
lo, and produce a tout-ensemble per-
fectly irresistible, and more than suf-

ficient to make him pass for the most
agreeable and lively companion, with-
out the necessity of his possessing a
particle of imagination or wit. In
like manner, any lady desirous of
making a conquest on any particular
occasion may, by the same means,
increase the natural brilliancy of her
complexion, and add considerably to
the effect of her charms. When
love comes riding on a sunbeam from
her eye, the heart is pierced through
and through in an instant. And
should she happen to have that obli-
quity of the optics, termed a squint,
it will be so much the better; for

If the rays from two eyes with such ardency

poke us,
What heart can resist when they meet in a

focus !

The frequent use of the concen-
trated sunbeams will cover the face
with a beautiful russet colour, and
change any white pasty-faced lady
into a clear brunette. If applied to
the corporeal system, no doubt many
complaints peculiar to a cold damp
climate may be cured by it. In like
manner persons of a cold phlegmatic
disposition may have their constitu-
tions much improved; and the aged
and infirm, in whom the current of
life seems frozen up, may have the
circulation accelerated, and the ani-
mal heat in a great measure restored,
by a proper use of the concentrated
sunbeams.

The Solar Company have also es-
tablished a manufactory, where, in
the absence of the usual supplies
from India, they are enabled to pro-
duce the concentrated sunbeams even
in this climate. This is effected by
choosing the warmest days in sum-
mer for the operation of their ma-
chinery; also by an ingenious contri-
vance for extracting sunbeams from

218

THE EMIGRANT BOOKBINDER.

cucumbers, old Indians, Blackamoors,
and such substances as have imbibed
a large portion of solar heat. These
means, however, of obtaining the
commodity can be considered merely
as a make-shift in case of necessity,
such as the manufacture of sugar
from beet-root in imperial France.
But the possession of the machinery
necessary for this purpose enables
the Solar Company to accommodate
the Indian part of the public in a
very desirable way ; namely, in ex-
tracting from their faces those ma-
hogany hues imparted by a long re-
sidence under the tropics, and leav-
ing that delicate primrose tint, so
much admired in our Anglo-Indian
ladies who have long dwelt in the
East without exposing their tender
faces to the sun, in undisputed pos-
session of the skin. By the same
process persons, whose constitutions
have been impaired by a warm cli-
mate, may have the sunbeams ex-
tracted from their livers, and be re-
stored to health, without resorting to
the strong and dangerous remedies
now in practice. Thus will those
walking mummies, whom one meets
in such numbers at Cheltenham and
the Bengal Club, have the animal
juices restored, and be converted
into plump, fresh-looking gentlemen.

In inflammatory complaints of all
kinds, the machinery for extracting
sunbeams will also be found of great
use, whether in drawing the heat
from the system generally, or from
a part immediately effected.

When the Solar Company's con-
centrated sunbeams come to be in
general use, our Eastern possessions
will then be turned to account in
earnest, by making them contribute
to the amelioration of our climate,
and to the many other important
purposes already enumerated. These
advantages will prove a counterpoise
to the destructive effects of that per-
nicious herb now imported in such
quantities from the East.

The concentrated sunbeams are
packed in cases of all sizes, for the
convenience of purchasers, and di-
rections for their use accompany them.
The public are warned against spu-
rious imitations of the same, which
counterfeit productions, being chief-
ly manufactured in Africa or the
West Indies, partake of the noxious
qualities of those climates.

N.B. The S***ch fiddle cured,
freckles extracted, Madeira wine im-
proved to the East Indian flavour,
and fat gentlemen melted down, on
the most moderate terms.

THE EMIGRANT BOOKBINDER.

From the Portfolio of a Traveller.

I came one evening to a ferry over
the Schuylkill, in Berks county.
Though it was very late I resolved
to cross, with the intention of pro-
ceeding a few miles farther, to a place
where, as I was informed, a person
with whom I had become acquainted
at New- York, resided. It was a ve-
ry cold night in December. Before

I reached the place in question, I
was so overcome with fatigue and
cold, that I knocked at the first
house I came to, for the purpose of
warming myself. It belonged to a
stocking-weaver, who positively in-
sisted that I should stop there for the
night. Some of his neighbours were
seated round the fire. After he had

THIi EMIGRANT BOOKBINDER.

219

inquired my profession, country, and
so forth, one of his visitors began as
follows :

" No, no, it is no easy matter I as-
sure you to get employment in Ame-
rica. In Europe, you hear a great
deal about the high wages earned by
the mechanic and day-labourer ; but
you are never told how little occasion
the former has for such people, and
what a wretched bungler the master
himself often is here. I am a book-
binder by trade, and while a journey-
man in Germany, found means to
save in a few years a tolerable sum.
Nothing would now serve me but I
must go to America, to sweep up mo-
ney with a besom. I arrived about
four years ago at Philadelphia. My
money wa3 nearly all gone, for the
scoundrel of a captain, who had
about twenty passengers, carried us
to Spain, and there compelled us by
his ill treatment to go on board ano-
ther vessel. Two-thirds of the pas-
sage-money which he made us pay
beforehand at Havre de Grace were
consequently lost.

" At Philadelphia I could not find
any employment, though I offered
several bookbinders to work for my
board. While I was thus seeking
work, I not only spent my last dol-
lar, but was obliged to part with my
best waistcoat to pay for my two last
meals. In this forlorn state I wan-
dered unconsciously through the ci-
ty, and, absorbed in thought, I did
not perceive the Schuylkill bridge,
till the collector demanded the toll.
I had not a cent in my pocket. In-
different as to life or death, I seated
myself on the ground. Presently a
Quaker chanced to pass by. ' Art
thou ill, friend?' said he.—' No,' I
replied, ' I am not so lucky as that;'

Vol. III. No. XI I

i and acquainted him with my situa-
j tion. — ' If thou losest courage,' re-
' joined he, ' 'tis all over with thee.
There is the bridge-toll: I shall not
give thee more. Learn to help thy-
self; and bear in mind this warning,
that he who looks back with regret
in America is liable to be turned in-
to a pillar of salt.' With these words
he left me.

" I crossed the bridge and proceed-
ed along the high-road. Evening
came on : I began to feel the crav-
ings of hunger and thirst. I was now
necessitated to make up my mind to
beg for the first time in my life : the
very idea wrung my soul. At length,
however, conquering my repugnance,
I went to a house and solicited a
nights lod<rin#. — ' I don't much like
your looks,' said the farmer; ' I have
frequently been robbed : but you may
lie in the barn.' This was too severe
a humiliation. — ' I'll accept none of
your favours,' cried I indignantly,
rushing out of the house. A few
hundred paces farther, I threw my-
self under a tree, and there passed
the night.

" Next morning I quitted the road,
and pursued a foot-path that led
into the woods. * You must surely
have missed your way?' cried a voice
to me all at once : it was that of a
wood-gutter, whom, though very near
me, I had not perceived. ' To me
all ways are alike,' answered I ; ' ne-
ver mind me.' — ' Nay, come hither,'
said the man laughing, ' and let us
take a dram together.' — I know not
whether it was his cheerful manner
or his offer that somewhat dispelled
my ill-humour. I sat down by him,
and he took out of his wallet a little
bottle containing brandy, and some
bread and meat, and pressed me to
G G

220

ADVENTUUES OF . A HEART.

eat with him. In reply to his inqui-
ries, I informed him of my situation.
He laughed and said, ' You have not
yet learned to accommodate yourself
to circumstances. Stay with me to-
day. I live not far off in the wood.
In about an hour we will go home.'
I accepted his offer. My conductor
lived with his family in a small block-
house. His two boys were piling up
wood for making charcoal, while an-
other heap was burning. I was so
pleased with these good-natured peo-
ple, that I stopped above a week with
them, and assisted my host in his oc-
cupations. I thought they would
have died with laughing, when at first
I was scarcely able to lift the axe,
and could not for the life of me hit
the piece of wood I wanted to cut.
The man gave me many a good piece
of advice into the bargain, and strove
to inoculate me with something of
American independence and spirit of
enterprize.

" On leaving this place I went to
Baltimore. With the wood-cutter I
had learned the art of forajnn"', and
never afterwards applied in vain to
any of the farmers along the road.
At Baltimore I might have obtained
work, but was required to find my
own tools. Nobody would lend me
any thing. * We have been swindled
out of too much already,' was the
universal reply. I was advised to go
to Pittsburgh. I set out, but by
this time I had scarcely shoe or stock-
ing to mv foot. What was to be

done ? I heard at one place that their
minister was dead. I went to some
of the principal persons of his con-
gregation, and told them that I was
going as a missionary to the back set-
tlements ; but that wishing to avail
myself of every opportunity to labour
in my vocation, I would, with their
permission, preach the following Sun-
day. My offer was cheerfully ac-
cepted. I studied hard the rest of
the week, and on the Sunday I gave
them a rattling sermon. After ser-
vice, my auditors gathered round me,
declaring that they had never heard
such a parson in all their lives, and
that nobody else should be their mi-
nister. Being myself not so tho-
roughly satisfied of my qualifica-
tion for the office, I declined it, on
the ground of prior engagements.
' Well,' said they, • if you absolute-
ly refuse to remain with us, we will at
least make a collection for you.' No
sooner said than done. The job pro-
duced'me fifteen dollars. I bought
myself shoes and stockings, travelled
on to Pittsburgh and down to Chili-
kothic, but without obtaining work ;
returned to Pennsylvania, and am
now — a wood -cutter and charcoal-
burner."

" And," added the mistress of
the house, " you have no reason to
complain: you are well oft."

" Yes, that I must say," replied
the man, " since I gave up being a
bookbinder and a parson."

ADVENTURES OF A HEART.

Jhj a Resident at Paris in June 1823.

Among the numberless acts, docu-
ments, papers, and other things, in
the sealing of which your advocates,

attorneys, notaries, &c. &c. have been
with pleasure concerned, I doubt
whether any of them ever witnessed

.ADVENTURES OF A HEART.

221

the sealing of a human heart. I was
lately present at such a transaction,
and must own that it interested me.

You must know that a place near
Paris, called Eremitage, formerly the
residence of Rousseau, came subse-
quently into the possession of Gre-
try, the celebrated musical compo-
ser. In the garden is interred his
heart beneath a marble pillar, which
bears his bust, with this inscription :

GltETRY !

Ton genie est partout, mais ton coeur n'est
qu'ici !

This mats is extremely sheepish.
The French cannot produce an epi-
taph : they understand life, but not
death ; and the former only in as far
as it can be comprehended without
the latter.

On the 17th of May, three men
of the law from Paris came with large
bundles of papers under their arms,
and with big steps and looks entered
the garden of the Eremitage. It was
already dusk, and a sweet May even-
ing it was; but neither this, nor the
song of a neighbouring nightingale,
had any effect on the relentless mi-
nisters of Themis. They drew forth
the official tape, fastened it round
Gretry's monument, attached it to the
surrounding palisades, dropped wax
on the requisite places, and duly im-
pressed a seal upon each of them.
This was the last act of a romantic
legal drama, the getting up of which
cost ten thousand francs.

Gretry died on the 24th of Sep-
tember, 1813, at the Eremitage, and
■was buried, agreeably to the desire
expressed in his will, in the cemetery
of Pere la Chaise. Previously to his
interment, M. Flammand, who is
married to a niece of Gretry's, pro-
posed, as representative of the family,
chief mourner, and a man of delicate

sensibility, that the heart of the de-
ceased should be taken out and em-
balmed ; but this measure was oppo-
sed by some of the members of the
family. The corpse was deposited
in a temporary grave, till the vault
intended to receive it should be fi-
nished. In about two months, when
it was ready, Gretry's remains were
dug up again. M. Flammand avail-
ed himself of this opportunity, and
without the knowledge of the other
members of the family, but by per-
mission of the police, he secretly
caused the heart to be extracted, em-
balmed, and put into a tin box, which
he took into his own custody. He
thereupon wrote to the city of Liege,
stating that Gretry had during his
life expressed a wish that his heart
might be deposited in the place of
his birth; and that in accordance with
this wish, he was ready to deliver the
said heart. The mayor of the city
returned for answer, that he accepted
the gift, and desired that it might be
sent to him by the next coach. He
is also reported to have added carri-
age-paid, but no mention is made of
this comic economical intimation in
the law proceedings. In this trans-
action the mayor of Liege resembled
the noblest of the ancient Romans,
who sacrificed every consideration to
the interest of their country. But
the warm feelings of Monsieur Flam-
mand hissed and fumed when the
cold, prosaic, formal, business - like
letter was poured forth upon them:
he took no notice of it, and retained
the heart.

A change of circumstances had
produced a change in his intentions.
In the first place, he had meanwhile
purchased the Eremitage, which he
had previously no hopes of acquiring:
that was of course the most appropri-
G c g

ADVENTURES OF A HEART.

ate place for Gretry's heart. In the
second, Liege had been wrested from
France, and annexed to the kingdom
of the Netherlands. M. Flammand
thought, and thought very justly,
that the peace of Paris was of itself
hard enough ; and he resolved that
France should not, through his fault,
lose so precious a relic of one of its
eminent men into the bargain. He
bespoke, therefore, a monument for
the garden of the Eremitage, beneath
which the heart was to be deposited.
Before he had time to execute this
design, the Allies paid their second
visit to Paris, and their troops occu-
pied all the environs. M. Flammand,
deeming it unsafe in the country,
betook himself with his heart to the
protecting city, where the Palais Roy-
al tames even Baschkirs themselves.
Here after a while he received infor-
mation, that the German troops quar-
tered in the neighbourhood of Mont-
morency had, out of respect for the
memory of a great man, spared the
Eremitage, and guarded it from plun-
der and every species of dilapidation.
Rejoiced by this intelligence, away
lie posted with his heart, and found
two young Prussian officers on their
knees before the monument of Gre-
try. This is his story, but I do not
believe it : it is much more probable
that these two sentimental young
men were kneeling before Rousseau's
monument, erected to no purpose,
at the cost of Madame d'Epinay, in
the same garden. Be this as it may,
on the 15th of July, 1816, the heart
was at length deposited with great
ceremony at the Eremitage.

The city of Liege seemed to have
relinquished its former claims, and for
some years not a syllable was said
about the matter. It was not till the
year 1830 that it again began to

make a stir, and demanded the heart
of M. Flammand. He returned no
answer to the letter. The mayor
then had recourse to an artful expe-
dient : he charged, namely, a Demoi-
selle Keppenn, a marchande de modes,
who was going on business from Liege
to Paris, to get Monsieur Flammand's
heart from him by hook or by crook.
Demoiselle Keppenn, an adept in
such conquests, cheerfully undertook
the commission. The enterprising
marchande de modes, however, had
reckoned without her host. She
was not aware that Monsieur Flam-
mand had passed the hey-day of
youth ; and when she came forward
with all her arts and charms, she
met with a rebuff. She then resort-
ed to the good old expedient of in-
trigue, and with much better success.
She found means to divide Gretry's
family, and contrived to procure from
some of its members a written decla-
ration, that it was their wish and de-
sire that Gretry's heart should be sent
to Liege. Upon this the city of
Liege cited M. Flammand before the
French tribunals, and lost the cause
in the first instance. It appealed, and
the affair was definitively decided
in its favour. M. Flammand has, to
be sure, appealed to the Court of
Cassation, but there is not the least
ground to expect a reversal of the
judgment. The form is against him,
and the spirit of law, like every other
spirit, follows its body, which is in
fact a very melancholy consideration.
Happy are they whose hearts are
not disturbed after their death, or
made the cause of disharmony, like
that of the harmonious Gretry ! For
ten years it had ceased to beat; two
months it lay buried at Paris in his
body ; the latter was then taken up,
and the heart extracted from it; then

APPARITION OF LADY LEE.

223

for some years it travelled to and fro
between Paris and Montmorency;
and now, after it has been seven years
deposited at the Eremitage, it must
quit its resting-place, and emigrate to
the Netherlands ! But what is to be-
come of the monument in the gar-
den? Why should it not be left?
The words, Ton occur nest quid,
need only be changed into Ton coeur
nefut quid. This would not be the
first instance of a conjugated monu-
mental inscription, which mode of
conjugating has something agreea-
ble, because it gives life to death.

On Rousseau's tomb at Ermenon-
ville were inscribed the words:

Ici repose l'homme de la nature et de la
verite.

But after his remains had, during
the French revolution, been remov-
ed to Paris, the word repose in this
inscription was altered to reposa.

For the rest, I understand that M.
Flammand designs not only to amend
the second edition of Gretry's in-
scription, but also to enlarge it with
some piquant irony, directed against
the French judges, who have depriv-
ed France of his invaluable heart.

GHOST STORIES.— No. VI.

APPARITION OF LADY LEE.

One of the best authenticated
Ghost Stories in circulation is given
in Beaumont's World of Spirits; and
is thus stated and commented on by
Dr. Hibbert, in his Philosophy of
Apparitions, which has just been
published. This case is dated in the
year 1662, and relates to an appari-
tion seen by the daughter of Sir
Charles Lee, immediately before her
death. No reasonable doubt can be
thrown on the authenticity of the nar-
rative, which was drawn up by the
Bishop of Gloucester from the re-
cital of the young lady's father.

Sir Charles Lee, says Beaumont,
had by his first lady only one daugh-
ter, of which she died in childbirth;
and when she was dead, her sister,
the Lady Everard, desired to have
the education of the child ; and she
was by her very well educated till she
was marriageable, and a match was
concluded for her with Sir William
Perkins, but was then prevented in
an extraordinary manner. Upon a
Thursday night, she, thinking she

saw a light in her chamber after she
was in bed, knocked for her maid,
who presently came to her ; and she
asked why she left a candle burning
in her chamber. The maid said she
left none, and there was none but
what she had brought with her at
the time. Then she said it was the
fire; but that, her maid told her, was
quite out, and said she believed it
was only a dream : whereupon she
said it might be so, and composed
herself again to sleep. But about
two of the clock she was awakened
again, and saw the apparition of a
little woman between her curtain and
her pillow, who told her that she was
her mother, that she was happy, and
that by twelve of the clock that day
she should be with her. Whereupon
she knocked again for her maid, call-
ed for her clothes, and when she was
dressed, went into her closet, and
came not out again till nine, and then
brought out with her a letter sealed
to her father; carried it to her aunt,
the Lady Everard, told her what had

.224

APPARITION OP LADY LEE.

happened, and desired that as soon
as she was dead it might be sent to
him. The lady thought she was sud-
denly fallen mad, and thereupon sent
presently away to Chelmsford for a
physician and a surgeon, who both
came immediately ; but the physician
could discern no indication of what
the lady imagined, or of any indis-
position of her body: notwithstand-
ing the lady would needs have her
let blood, which was done accord-
ingly. And when the young woman
had patiently let them do what they
would with her, she desired that the
chaplain might be called to read
prayers ; and when prayers were end-
ed, she took her guitar and psalm-
book, and sat down upon a chair
without arms, and played and sung
so melodiously and admirably, that
her music-master, who was then there,
admired at it. And near the stroke
of twelve she rose and sate herself
down in a great chair with arms, and
presently fetching a strong breathing
or two, immediately expired, and was
so suddenly cold as was much won-
dered at by the physician and sur-
geon. She died at Waltham, in Es-
sex, three miles from Chelmsford,
and the letter was sent to Sir Charles,
at his house in Warwickshire; but
he was so afflicted with the death of
his daughter, that he came not till
she was buried ; but when he came,
he caused her to be taken up, and
to be buried with her mother at Ed-
monton, as she desired in her letter.
This, observes Dr. Hibbert, is one
of the most interesting Ghost Stories
on record: yet, when strictly exa-
mined, the manner in which a lead-
ing circumstance in the case is re-
ported, affects but too much the su-
pernatural air imparted to other of
its incidents. For, whatever might

have been averred by a physician of
the olden time, with regard to the
young lady's sound state of health at
the period when she saw her mother's
ghost, it may be asked, if any prac-
titioner at the present day would have
been proud of such an opinion, es-
pecially when death followed so
promptly after the spectral impres-
sion :

There's bloom upon her cheek ;
But now I see it is no living hue,
But a strange hectic — like the unnatural red
Which Autumn plants upon the perish'd leaf.

Probably the languishing female
herself might have unintentionally
contributed to the more strict verifi-
cation of the ghost's prediction. It
was an extraordinary exertion which
her tender frame underwent near the
expected hour of its dissolution, in
order that she might retire from all
her scenes of earthly enjoyment with
the dignity of a resigned Christian.
And what subject can be conceived
more worthy of the masterly skill of
the painter, than to depict a young
and lovely saint, cheered with the
bright prospect of futurity before
her, and ere the quivering flame of
life, which for the moment was kin-
dled up into a glow of holy ardour,
had expired for ever, sweeping the
strings of the guitar with her trem-
bling fingers, and melodiously accom-
panying the notes with her voice in a
hymn of praise to her heavenly Ma-
ker? Entranced with such a sight,
the philosopher himself would dis-
miss for the time his usual cold and
cavilling scepticism, and giving way
to the superstitious impressions of
less deliberating by-standers, partake
with them in the most grateful of re-
ligious solaces, which the spectacle
must have irresistibly inspired.

Regarding the confirmation which

THE CONFESSIONS OF A RAMBLER

225

the ghost's mission is in the same nar-
rative supposed to have received from
the completion of a foreboded death,
all that can be said of it is, that the
coincidence was a fortunate one ; for

without it the story would probably
never have met with a recorder, and
we should have lost one of the sweet-
est anecdotes that private life has
ever afforded.

THE CONFESSIONS OF A RAMBLER.
No. VII.

I REMAINED in Alexandria some
months, having taken private lodg-
ings, after the second day, as my-
self and Mr. Mortimer assimilated
so little in disposition and opinion,
that I had no wish to lay myself un-
der any obligation by accepting his
hospitality. There was a magnet,
however, which attracted me, and
occasioned my remaining stationary
much longer than I at first intended.
I fancied I felt a penchant for Miss
Fitzherbert, who was as fair as a
Houri, and amiable as an angel;
and the pleasure I derived from es-
corting her to various places of pub-
lic and private amusement, and the
friendship I experienced from several
families to whom I had been intro-
duced, caused Time to pass swiftly
on: for that elderly and venerable
personage, though gifted with leaden
wings when pain and sorrow mark
each lingering hour, borrows the
swiftest pinions of the eagle, if joy
and pleasure are your companions.

During the short sojourn which I
had hitherto made in this country, I
found that much of the pleasure an
Englishman would derive, must de-
pend upon the class of people with
whom he was compelled to associate.
The inhabitants were divided into
parties on almost every public ques-
tion, and party politics ran as high
in Alexandria as in most places. The
leading denominations were Demo-
crats and Federalists ; and the re-

spective partisans were sometimes
called Whigs and Tories, and some-
times the English and French par-
ties. The Democrats, Whigs, or
French partisans were the support-
ers of the government; and Mr. Jef-
ferson, the then President, was look-
ed upon as the head of their party.
It is not exactly within the province
of these sketches to describe the in-
trigues by which this person became
elevated to the presidential chair: it
is certain, however, that those in-
trigues were not of a very honour-
able description ; and that they were
mainly promoted and directed in
their different ramifications by a
Scotch refugee, who had been com-
pelled to fly his own country, to avoid
the consequences of a libel which
he had published and circulated up-
on some distinguished personage at
home. Indeed, the great majority
of this party was composed of Eng-
lish, Irish, and Scotch refugees : the
public press, in its interest, was al-
most wholly under the direction of
foreigners; and they kept alive and
nourished the too easily excited en-
mity of the Americans against this
country, by the publication of the
most gross misrepresentations, the
most malignant calumnies and un-
founded libels. With some few ex-
ceptions, the native Americans, who
had attached themselves to this par-
ty, were not distinguished either for
their acquirements or their property

THE CONFESSIONS OF A RAMBLKR.

(the great criterion by wh&h a man's
respectability is determined in Ame-
rica); but, by dint of intrigue, and
the advantage which the ascendency
of the populace in most of the States
gives to all those who can conde-
scend to cringe to and flatter that
portion of the community, they had
succeeded in obtaining possession of
every avenue to emolument and to
honour, so that the government was
purely democratical.

The Federal party included by far
the greatest proportion of the re-
spectable native Americans, and near-
ly all the surviving revolutionary of-
ficers were attached to it. This
party was friendly to England, and
deprecated the intimate union with
France which their opponents advo-
cated, and which it was the object
of the government to cultivate. As
politics were but too frequently ob-
truded into private life, it was impos-
sible for an Englishman to live on
terms of friendship with the Demo-
crats, unless he could entirely divest
himself of all amor patrice, and
tamely consent to hear every thing
relative to his country vilely abused.
With the Federalists, however, he
found all his natural predilections
gratified, and his partialities and pre-
judices indulged. I was fortunate
in becoming, as a temporary board-
er, the inmate of a family who were
attached to the latter party ; and
therefore I was not subject to the un-
pleasant necessity of being engaged
in continual altercation, or of silently
hearing my country reviled by all
about me.

Alexandria is a pleasant little town,
situated on the Virginian side of the
majestic river Potowmac, nearly 300
miles from the sea. This river is
navigable for large vessels as high as

the town; but a few miles beyond,
a bar prevents them from proceeding
to Washington, which lies about nine
miles higher up the stream. The
town commands a delightful view of
the opposite shore of Maryland,
which is beautifully diversified with
plantations ; and one or two good
houses add interest to the scene. It
is built precisely on the plan of Phi-
ladelphia, and is indeed frequently
called Philadelphia in miniature. The
main streets run in a direct line from
the river, and are intersected by
others at right angles, forming squares,
the interiors of which are laid out in
yards, gardens, &c. The houses
have a mean appearance; there is
(perhaps I should rather say was,
for it may not be the case now,)
scarcely one handsome mansion in
the place. A great many of the ha-
bitations are of wood, and are called
frame-houses, from their being built
in a frame on a moveable foundation :
they are capable of being moved
from one part of the town to an-
other, a transition which frequently
takes place ; and it is no uncommon
thing for a man who does not like
his situation, and who can procure
another more to his taste, to remove
his house and goods bodily to their
new site. This is done by loosening
the earth, &c. from the foundation,
and hoisting them, by means of le-
vers, upon a strong and low machine,
something like our brewers' drays,
but square instead of oblong : in this
manner they are carried to any part
of the town which the owner deems
more eligible.

Alexandria was originally called
Belhaven. I am not informed as to
the reason for the change of name.
It used to be comprehended in the
state of Virginia ; but when the tract

THE CONFESSIONS OF A KAMBLEK.

227

■of ground on which the city of Wash- J
ington is built, was fixed upon as a ■
site for the residence of the general j
government, an additional tract, ta-
ken from that state and Maryland,
containing about ten square miles,
was laid out around it, as a sort of
appanage to the " federal city," to
■which was given the name of the
District of Columbia. Alexandria is
included in this new arrangement.
It was formerly a flourishing town,
and carried on an extensive foreign
trade; but a great number of ves-
sels belonging to it were captured
by the French in the West Indies,
during the disputes between that
power and the American republic,
under the presidency of Mr. Adams;
and the yellow fever raged there very
violently a few years previous to my
arrival : both causes had contributed
materially to diminish its commercial
importance; and when I resided
there, it was of little note. The ves-
sels which belonged to the port were
chiefly coasters, and only two or three
were in the trade with England.

I found the inhabitants in general
sociable and hospitable, and was well
received in the families to which I
was introduced. There was none of
the splendour of wealth or the pomp
of grandeur; but then there was
none of that pride and hauteur which
too frequently accompany it. There
was no great distinction kept up be-
tween the different classes of the
white population, except with the
very worst. A young man of genteel
dress and address, and who conduct-
ed himself respectably, might easily
obtain admission into any society
the place afforded. There were no
families very rich, and those imme-
diately beneath them were not con-
To/. ///. N6. XVI.

sidered as at such a distance as to
preclude intimacy; but scarcely fa-
miliarity was awarded to those who
occupied the station of labourers,
journeymen, or servants, when their
situations did not enable them to
maintain a genteel appearance, or to
keep themselves and families above
penury and want. Notwithstanding
what has been said of the boasted
comforts which America affords to
all her sons, I found many in the lat-
ter situation; though the number
would appear but small in compari-
son with the total population, as most
of the menial offices were performed,
and most of the less dignified occu-
pations filled, by slaves.

" Disguise thyself as thou wilt,
slavery, still thou art a bitter draught ;"
but here was no disguise: in this fa-
voured land of liberty, the oppressed
African cries to his God for redress
in vain. Condemned to " drag the
lengthening chain" of never-ending
bondage, he sees no hope, either for
himself or his children, but in that
refuge for the destitute, the grave.
Yet these people have a constitutional
levity, which, notwithstanding all the
cruelties exercised upon them, and
the privations and hardships under
which they labour, induces them,
when they can obtain a few leisure
hours (and that is not often), to as-
semble in any out-house that will af-
ford them shelter, at the houses of
some of their free brethren, or, in
fine weather, in the woods, where
they amuse themselves with singing
and dancing to the sound of the ban-
jore, till the rays of the morning sun
warn them to depart to their accus-
tomed labour.

In fact, the treatment of the Blacks
was one of the most unpleasant things
H H

THE CONFESSIONS OF A UAMBLEH.

I had to contemplate ; and yet I was
informed, that their situation in the
northern and midland states was a
paradise to that of the slaves in the
southern provinces. There then I
thought it must he a hell indeed.

During my residence in America
this subject naturally occupied much
of my attention. The bondage in
which the Negroes were held was so
strikingly contrasted with the high
claims of the white population to
uncontrolled and unshackled liberty,
that it could not fail to strike every
stranger. This bondage too was
embittered by the most barbarous
outrages, the most cruel indignities;
and if a black man, under any pro-
vocation, struck a white, he was, after
a very summary process, tied up and
flogged with a cow-hide ; a most se-
vere instrument of punishment, made
by cutting the hide of a cow into
strips, and then letting them become
hard by exposure to the sun. I have
seen the slaves chastised with these
upon their naked backs, whilst the
blood followed at every stroke.

It is unaccountable, that the own-
ers of slaves should not treat these
wretched beings better, if it were
only from motives of self-interest. I
have known instances, where kind-
ness attached them to their masters,
when the despised Negroes became
the most faithful of servants, and
evinced the most unshaken fideli-
ty, the most incorruptible integrity.
They might, in these instances, have
been safely intrusted with the custo-
dy of the property, or the defence
of the lives or honour, of their mas-
ters or their families: but when treat-
ed as a different race of beings, and
considered as scarcely a degree above
the rank of brute beasts in the scale
of creation, and frequently exposed

to much greater hardship than the
cattle of the field, or the domestic
animals who shared their master's
hearth, where all their affections are
violated, anu the most tender ties of
nature torn asunder, what else can
rationally be expected, than that they
should be treacherous and unfaithful?
or is it surprising, that roguery and
knavery should predominate in their
dispositions?

I can say very little for the mo-
rality of either the higher or lower
classes of the Alexandrians (I am now
speaking of the Whites), particularly
as respects the latter. Their leisure
hours were spent in scenes of de-
bauchery and vice; and the Sabbath
was almost uniformly a day, not of
devotion, but of unhallowed pursuits.
Quarrels were frequent ; and one quar-
ter of the town, where women of the
worst description congregated, and
where houses were always open for
visitants, and the song and dance
were continually to be heard, was
nightly the scene of broils and riots.
Their mode of fighting was coward-
ly in the extreme. I have heard and
seen much of it since, but I shall
never forget the sickening sensation
which came over me, when I first
became the involuntary spectator of
the conclusion of an American box-
ing-match. It was on a Sunday; I
had attended Miss Fitzherbert home
from the Episcopal chapel, and was
returning across the Market-place,
in the direction of my own lodgings,
when I was attracted by a crowd and
a shouting at a little distance. I ap-
proached, and soon found that two
men were fighting. I was hastening
away, when a loud shout of exulta-
tion from some of the partisans oc-
casioned me to turn again, to see
what had occasioned it. The ring

THE CONFESSIONS OF A RAMBLER.

!S0

was then broken, and I observed one
of the combatants fainting in the
arms of two men, who, I supposed,
were his seconds. His face presented
a hideous spectacle ; one eye was torn
from the socket, which the victor tri-
umphantly displayed on his finger,
whilst his breast was shockingly la-
cerated from the other's teeth, who
had fastened upon him like a leech,
and who did not relax his hold, till
compelled by the agony arising from
the forcing of his eye out of his head.
This horrid practice is called goug-
iug: it gave me an instinctive horror,
almost a fear, of coming in contact
with any of these ruffians, lest I too
should lose an eye, or be disfigured
by a bite. My readers will per-
haps scarcely believe, that gouging
matches in America are (or were)
not unfrequent, the issue of which
often is, that both the parties engag-
ing in them are deprived of sight. I
have been informed, that this prac-
tice is latterly abated: I hope it is;
for it is one most disgraceful to hu-
man nature.

I have witnessed another match
between the lower orders of Ameri-
cans, called butting: the combatants
take their stations at some yards dis-
tance from each other, and stooping
down, run with all their force, till
their heads meet, and the concussion
occasions them to recoil, and fre-
quently fall senseless to the ground.
He who could stand this sort of
amusement the longest was declared
the victor.

We have in our own country, and
amongst our own population, much
of vice, and much of irreligion and
immorality ; but I never saw any thing

at all comparable in that respect with
what I have witnessed in the United
States. I have attributed this to
the want of a national establishment,
which makes religion respectable,
and exalts its ministers in the eyes
of the people, by giving them the
support and sanction of the law.
There was no want of places of wor-
ship, and there were various denomi-
nations of nominal Christians; but
very few of the sacred edifices were
well attended. The most frequented
in Alexandria were the Episcopal,
the Presbyterian, the Methodist, and
the Roman Catholic chapels: there
were several others which were al-
most deserted; and those I have enu-
merated could not accommodate half
the population, many of whom, there-
fore, could never attend upon the
public worship of their God. Some
of their own writers have lamented
this, and described the deplorable
consequences in strong and emphatic
language: in this description, I shall
not therefore be accused of either
injustice or partiality. The picture
is not favourable, but it is a true por-
traiture of American manners at the
period of which I am writing. In
different towns I experienced much
friendship, and found the social prin-
ciple strong and flourishing; but some
of my most valued intimates were
tainted with immorality and infideli-
ty ; and I found it impossible either
to reason or ridicule them out of
their faith or their practice.

A Rambleii.

*** A small error occurs in my last: For
a " superficial knowledge of music," read a
superficial knowledge of French.

Hli2

230

SOME PARTICULARS OF MR. JOHN LETHBRIDGE AND
HIS DIVING-MACHINE.

In the parish of Wolborough, De-
vonshire, lived Mr. John Leth bridge,
not so well known as he deserves to
be, as the ingenious inventor of a
diving -machine, by which he was
enabled to recover goods from wrecks
at the bottom of the sea, without any
communication of air from above.
This gentleman appears to have been
of the ancient family of his name.
In a letter printed in the Gentleman's
Magazine, 1749, pp. 411, 412, he
states, that being much reduced in
circumstances, and having a large
family, he turned his thoughts to
some extraordinary method of im-
proving his fortune ; and being pre-
possessed with the notion, that it
would be practicable to invent a ma- I
chine to recover goods from wrecks |
lost in the sea, he made his first ex-
periment in his orchard at Newton j
Abbot, on the day of the great eclipse I
in 1715, by going into a hogshead
bunged up tight, in which he con-
tinued half an hour, without any com-
munication of air. He then contriv-
ed to place the hogshead under wa-
ter, and found that he could remain
longer without air under water, than
on land. His first experiment hav-
ing been thus encouraging, he con-
structed his machine with the assist-
ance of a cooper in London. It was
of wainscot, well secured with iron
hoops, with holes for the arms, and
a glass of about four inches in dia-
meter. It required 5001bs. weight
to sink it, lead being fixed at the bot-
tom of the machine for that purpose ;
and the removal of 1 olbs. would bring
it to the surface of the water. With
this machine, Mr. Lethbridge says
he could move about in a space 12 feet

square at the bottom of the sea, where
he frequently staid thirty-four mi-
nutes: he had often been forsixhours
at a time in the engine, being fre-
quently brought up to the surface,
where he was refreshed with a pair
of bellows. Many hundred times,
he states, he had been ten fathoms
deep, and sometimes twelve fathoms
with difficulty. When his machine
was finished, he offered his services
to some merchants of London, to
adventure on the wrecks of some
treasure-ships, then lately lost; but
it was some time before he found any
who had sufficient confidence in the
success of his experiment, to offer
him terms at all adequate to his de-
serts and expectations: but after his
success had been proved, he was em-
ployed to dive on wrecks in various
parts of the world, both for his own
countrymen, and for the Dutch and
the Spaniards.

He mentions in his letter, already
quoted, that he had dived on wrecks
in the West Indies, at the Isle of
May, at Porto Santo near Madeira,
and at the Cape of Good Hope. His
most laudable endeavours were so
far crowned with success, that he was
enabled not only to maintain his fa-
mily, but to purchase the estate of
Odicknoll, in the parish of Kings
Carswell, near Newton Abbot. At
the house of his grandson, John
Lethbridge, Esq. at Newton, is a-
board, on which is an inscription in
gold letters, dated 1736, stating that
John Lethbridge, by the blessing of
God, had dived on the wrecks of
four English men of war, one Eng-
lish East Indiaman, two Dutch men
of war, five Dutch East Indiamen,

THE EMIGRANT.

231

two Spanish galleons, and two Lon-
don galleys, all lost in the space of
twenty years, on many of them with
good success, hut that he had heen
very near drowning in the engine
five times. The apparatus ahout
twenty years ago was at Governor
Holdsworth's, at Dartmouth, hut it
was then in a decaying state.

Mr. Lethhridge is thus noticed in
the register of the parish of Wolbo-
rough: " Dec. 11, 1759, buried Mr.
John Lethhridge, inventor of a most
famous diving-machine, by which he

recovered from the bottom of the sea,
in different parts of the globe, al-
most 100,000/. for the English and
Dutch merchants, which had been
lost by shipwreck."

There is reason to suppose that
Mr. Lethhridge was the first person,
who, by his ingenuity and intrepidity,
succeeded in recovering goods from
wrecked vessels. There is I believe
no record of Phipps' bell, which was
of prior invention, having been used
successfully for that purpose.

THE EMIGRANT: A Sketch prom Liee.

(Concluded

Well, sir, the beds were put up,
the chairs placed, the books found
themselves comfortably arranged,
statues from the antique ascended
their brackets, the pictures were hung
in the best possible light, yet nobody
came. We appeared at church, but
no one knocked at the door. Nay,
the garden was nearly finished a la
Repton, but still no one arrived.
They order this matter better in Lon-
don, thought I. At length an elderly
gentleman, under four feet, who had
shewn me some civilities at a sale of
household furniture, did call, but it
was at half-past four o'clock, in the
middle of my dinner. Frightened at
the cloth he beheld on the table, he
bowed an adieu through the glass
window. I guess, as the American
$ays, he came to smoke his pipe ; but,
like Monsieur Tonson, he was never
.seen again. We now were in a fit
mood to visit our relations, and when
we returned, we wrere blessed with
the signs of something like society ;
for we found cards from Mr. and
Mrs. Glum, Mr. Snitcher, and the
two Misses Drinkwater. We returned

from p. 168.)

these calls; and to tell the truth, the
reception we met with afforded us
much more amusement than did the
whole of their company. I should
also have said that the clergyman
made his call; but as it is not my
wish to bring any part of a profes-
sion for which I have the highest opi-
nion into contempt, I shall not state
the result of this gentleman's ac-
quaintance.

At Mr. Snitcher's we were receiv-
ed with much overstrained polite-
ness, proffered in all the agonies of
mauvaise honte. The relief on our
departure which played on this gen-
tleman's countenance, sufficiently in-
formed us how rejoiced he felt to see
our backs. At Mr. Glum's we were
greeted with the most adumbrating
coolness ; the conversation was car-
ried on so agreeably, that I believe
neither party cast their eyes towards
the door more than once in a minute.
However, some of these good folks
did muster a dinner; the decanters
circulated rather heavily: we return-
ed the feeds. Again all was quiet,
and I found myself in a solitude in

23;

THE EMIGRANT.

the centre of society. Alas ! sir, I
had indeed reckoned without my
host, when I flattered myself, from
the society I had been used to in Lon-
don, that on some topic or other I
might come recommended to the
Goths of C****; but I soon found,
that to harangue on the merits of a
good picture, was to them to speak
in an unknown language. The ac-
counts of the theatre or opera were
deeper and deeper still. Books, ex-
cept Taplin's Farriery, or The Cat-
tle-Doctor, they never read. The
price of turnips, of wheat, the changes
in the weather, were all they cared
about; and if I came across a gentle-
man of birth or education, he had
sunk to the level of those around him,
and with them talked the same jar-
gon, while to his equals he held forth
on turnpike-roads, parish settlements,
and appeals on the tythe-laws. As
a new-comer, I became the deposita-
ry of all their secrets, their little
heart-burnings and jealousies, and
had I believed half the insinuations
thrown out for my acceptance, I
should have found that every inhabit-
ant bore a complete opposition to the
honourable character of the How-
ards, of whom I think it was said,
" that all the sons were brave, and all
the daughters virtuous." Once or
twice we determined to be at home:
we sent out the most humble invita-
tions, for fear of alarming the natives;
for in a place where etiquette is not
known even by name, this was no
very easy business. We did now and
then conjure up a few spirits, for
whom preparations were made as for
a genteel party, and when I saw who
was arriving, my heart sunk with cha-
grin.

The last coterie of these enlight-
ened ones was delightful. Thank

heaven, it was the last! But to describe
it. There were Mr. and Mrs. Cal-
vin, who never touched a card ; Mr.
Glum, who doted on a rubber, his
wife ditto, daughters ditto ditto —
they sat gaping and casting anxious
sidelong glances at the card-table,
which stood quietly closed up in the
corner of the room; but the Miss
Calvin's spoke of the charms of con-
versation, yet they got no further
than how very cold the weather was
for the season, and hoping as the sum-
mer arrived it would be finer. Mr.
Snitch talked of the marriages and
deaths of a circle ten miles round.
I introduced a few print-books, but
they spilt coffee on the embellish-
ments, and toasted the letter-press.
At length, sir, the hour came when
they were to depart. Oh! what joy
could exceed ours when we heard
the clatter of their pattens dying
away upon the breeze! The animal
flow of spirits, which had been thus
corked up, began to effervesce, and
burst forth in peals of laughter. My
wife echoed my Io triumphes ! at the
finish of this evening. We danced
about the room with deVght, and
while my better half was laughing
loud and long at the ridiculous cari-
catures of our ludicrous friends, the
two Misses Drink water, who, un-
known to us, had been detained in
the hall, hunting for their pincushion,
and had overheard all, burst with an
air of indignation into the room. I
made them as low a bow as I thought
became me, and they disappeared ;
while our mirth, by no means divert-
ed at this mal a propos intrusion,
burst forth louder still.

I remember my father, good Mr.
Lawyer Trusty of Lyons Inn, inform-
ing me, that he once sold a house,
and the good-wil! of an excellent

ANECDOTES, &C. HISTORICAL, LITLKARY, AND PERSONAL.

233

china - shop, for a painstaking cou-
ple, who becoming tired of being
happy, longed for retirement and a
cottage. The shop was sold, and the
couple emigrated to a pigeon-house
at Peckham-Rise. Scarcely, how-
ever, had they enjoyed the sight of
the stage-coaches passing the door
every quarter of an hour, when they
became fatigued with the monotony
of their lives, and longed once more
to deal in china utensils. The old
man came soon after to my legal
parent, with tears in his eyes, and
conjured him to reinstate him in his
old shop, ere his old woman and him-
self gave up the ghost for want of
employment. His appearance corro-
borated this statement; but the new
occupier, lothe to leave a good thing,
which he now found coveted by an-
other, demanded a considerable sum
for his accommodation. The old
man readily complied with this de-
mand, and himself and wife speedi-
ly overcame the illness which ennui
alone had caused, and they lived to
a great age, enjoying themselves to
the last in their old concern.

I had often laughed at this old
couple, but I now found myself in a
similar situation. I have eaten cab-
bages out of my own garden, until I

can relish them no longer. " Roses
now unheeded lie," for my wife is
tired of gathering them ; and dis-
gusted with the vulgarity around
me, to which novelty was the only
recommendation, I pine for civili-
zation and society: in other words, I
am nauseated with pretended inno-
cence and simplicity. I have heard
more scandal for the last twelvemonth
that I have been here, than I did all the
twenty years inwhich I resided in Lon-
don. I have hired servants of pretend-
ed unsophisticated manners, who have
robbed us before our faces ; and even
my relations, finding no pleasure in
visiting persons from whom they can
derive no advantage, have ceased
to trouble us; and we are deserted,
like some unfortunate English folk,
who, becoming victims to American
delusion, have left the good they
knew, for that which they only ex-
pected; and have td rue the day,
when leaving elegance and taste, we
took up our abode among the selfish,
the vulgar, and the unenlightened,
with very few exceptions; and our
example furnishes a warning to other
emigrants, to avoid a society with
which early habits and education will
not permit them to assimilate.

ANECDOTES, &c.
HISTORICAL, LITERARY, AND PERSONAL.

IRISH KKKNS.

Having a curiosity, says Mr.
Croker, to hear the keen more dis-
tinctly sung than over a corpse, when
it is accompanied by a wild and in-
articulate uproar as a chorus, I pro-
cured an elderly woman, who was
renowned for her skill in keening, to
recite for me some of these dirges.
This woman, whose name was Har-

rington, led a wandering kind of life,
and travelling from cottage to cottage
about the country, found every where
not merely a welcome, but had nu-
merous invitations, on account of the
vast store of Irish verses she had
collected and could repeat. Her
memory was indeed extraordinary;
and the clearness, quickness, and ele-
gance with which she translated from

~34 ANECDOTES, &c. HISTORICAL, literary, and PERSONAL.

the Irish into English, though un-
able to read or write, is almost incre-
dible. Before she commenced re-
peating, she mumbled for a short
time, probably the beginning of each
stanza, to assure herself of the ar-
rangement, with her eyes closed, rock-
ing her body backwards and for-
wards, as if keeping time to the mea-
sure of the verse. She then began
in a kind of whining recitative, but
as she proceeded, and as the com-
position required it, her voice assum-
ed a variety of deep and fine tones,
and the energy with which many pas-
sages were delivered, proved her
perfect comprehension and strong-
feeling of the subject; but her eyes
always continued shut, perhaps to
prevent interruption to her thoughts,
or her attention being engaged by
any surrounding object.

The following keen was composed
on Sir Richard Cox, the historian,
who died in 1773 :

" My love and darling, though I
never was in your kitchen, yet I have
heard an exact account of it. The
brown roast meat continually coming
from the fire; the black boilers con-
tinually boiling; the cock of the
beer-barrel for ever running; and if
even a score of men came in, no per-
son would inquire their business,
but they would give them a place at
your table, and let them eat what
they pleased, nor would they bring
a bill in the morning to them.

" My love and friend, I dreamed
through my morning slumbers, that
your castle fell into decay, and that
no person remained in it. The birds
sung sweetly no longer, nor were
there leaves upon the bushes: all
was silence and decay! The dream
told me, that our beloved man was
lost to us; that the noble horseman

was gone! the renowned 'Squire
Cox!

f My love and darling, you were
nearly related to the Lord of Clare
and to O' Donovan of Bawnlehan ;
to Cox with the blue eyes, and to
Townsend of White Court. This
is the appointed day for your fune-
ral, and yet I see none of them
coming to place even a green sod

over you."

a flogging-match.

The poet Cowper, in one of his
letters, gives the following whimsi-
cal picture of the punishment of a
culprit who had been convicted of
theft:

He was ordered to be whipt, which
operation he underwent at the cart's-
tail. He seemed to shew great for-
titude, but it was all an imposition
upon the public. The beadle who
performed it had filled his left hand
with red ochre, through which, after
every stroke, he drew the lash of his
whip, leaving the appearance of a
wound upon the skin, but in reality
not hurting him at all. This being
perceived by Mr. Constable II — ,
who followed the beadle, he applied
his cane, without any such manage-
ment or precaution, to the shoulders
of the too merciful executioner. The
scene immediately became more in-
teresting. The beadle could by no
means be prevailed upon to strike
hard, which provoked the constable
to strike harder; and this double
flogging continued, till a lass, pitying
the pitiful beadle thus suffering un-
der the hands of the pitiless consta-
ble, joined the procession, and plac-
ing herself immediately behind the
latter, seized him by his capillary
club, and pulling him backwards by
the same, slapped his face with a
mast Amazonian fury.

ANECDOTES, &C. HISTORICAL, LITERARY, AND PERSONAL. Z>3li

AURICULAR CONFESSION.

Louis XIV. is related to have once
asked a priest, whether, in case a pe-
nitent confided to him the knowledge
of a plot that was forming to take
away the life of his king, he would
inform him of the danger. To this
question the confessor replied : " No,
sire: I would throw myself before
your majesty to ward off the blow;
but were you certain to fall by the
hand of the assassin, I would not be-
tray the confession."

JEREMIAH CLARK,

who was organist to the Chapel Royal
at the beginning of the last century,
had the misfortune to entertain a
hopeless passion for a very beautiful
lady, in a station far above him. His
despair of success threw him into a
deep melancholy, and he grew wea-
ry of life. Being one day at the
house of a friend in the country, he
abruptly resolved to return to Lon-
don. His friend having observed in
his behaviour signs of great dejec-
tion, furnished him with a horse and
a servant. Riding along the road, he
was seized with a fit of melancholy, on
which he alighted, and giving his ser-
vanthis horse to hold,went into a field,
in a corner of which was a pond, and
also trees, and began a debate with
himself, whether he should there end
his days by hanging or drowning.
Not being able to resolve on either,
he thought of making chance the um-
pire, and drew out of his pocket a
piece of money, and tossed it into
the air. It came down on its edge,
and stuck in the clay. This deter-
mination was flir from ambiguous, as
it seemed to forbid both modes of
destruction, and would have given
unspeakable comfort to a mind less
disordered than his was. Being thus
Vol. III. No. XVI.

interrupted in his purpose, he re-
turned, and mounting his horse, rode
on to London, and soon afterwards
shot himself.

PETER BAJUS.

If we may credit the accounts we
have received from the Continent,
there is now living in the grand-
duchy of Hesse a young man, to
whose performances the most cele-
brated feats of our English pedes-
trians are said to be mere children's
play. His name is Peter Bajus; he
is twenty-eight years old, upwards of
six feet two inches high, slender, but
large boned, and has large hands
and feet. While a boy he surpassed
all his comrades both in strength
and swiftness. He will carry two
hundred weight above a mile without
resting, and three half the distance;
and can drive six hundred weight
in a wheelbarrow along very dirty
roads. Without any particular ex-
ertion, he will run two miles and a
half in eighteen minutes, and thirty
at a stretch, which surpasses the abi-
lity of our best racehorses. On the
15th of February last he set out at
two o'clock in the afternoon from
Frankfort for Hanau, and notwith-
standing the badness of the roads,
and the obstruction he experienced
from the curiosity of the immense
concourse of the inhabitants of both
towns and an intermediate village,
through whom he had literally to
fight his way, he arrived again at
Frankfort in two hours and ten mi-
nutes, during which time he had
travelled over a space equal to twenty
English miles, and taken no other
refreshment than a single glass of wine.
Bajus has never been ill in his life;
he is moderate both in eating and
drinking, and of a phlegmatic dispo-
sition.
I r

MUSICAL HEVIF.W.

LIEUTENANT JOHN OSWALD.
The history of this officer is rather
singular. He was the son of a gold-
smith in Edinburgh, and had receiv-
ed a good education, but from some
frolic, enlisted with a recruiting party
of the 18th or Royal Irish, in which
regiment he was appointed serjeant,
and when quartered at Deal, mar-
ried a young woman possessed of
some money. Soon afterwards he
obtained his discharge from the Royal
Irish, and purchased an ensigncy in
the 1st battalion of the Royal High-
landers, from which he was immedi-
ately promoted to a lieutenancy in
the 2d battalion in 17S0. He ac-
companied the regiment to India,
and fought a duel with the officer
commanding his transport in Porto
Praya bay. From this circumstance,
and his finances being low, he did
not associate or dine with the other
officers in the cabin, but employed
his whole time in acquiring a know-
ledge of the Greek, Hebrew, and
Gaelic languages, and was particu-
larly fond of Ossian's poems. In
India he imitated the Gentoos, ab-
stained from animal food, and regu-
larly performed his ablutions. For
a short time he acted as adjutant to
the battalion; soon afterwards 3old
his commission, and returned to Lon-
don, where he lived several years,
supporting himself by the labours of
his pen. He was a warm republican,
and on the breaking out of the
French revolution went to France,
where he obtained the command ol

a regiment ; and in 1 793 was killed
in La Vendee, along with his two
sons, whom, in the true sph-it of equa-
lity, he made drummers in his regi-
ment. But in his ideas of liberty
and equality he was not always con-
sistent. The short time that he acted
as adjutant in India he was so se-
vere and tyrannical, that the spirit
of the soldiers revolted, and had he
not been removed he would have
occasioned a mutiny.

Some years ago a learned doctor
wrote an essay, in which he laboured
to prove, by a long deduction of cir-
cumstances, that Buonaparte was in
reality John Oswald, the son of a
jeweller in Edinburgh. He alleged,
that Oswald was not killed in La
Vendee — that he changed his name
— that he was a violent republican,
as was once the supposed Buona-
parte— that he changed his religion,
and became Mahometan—that though
he talked about liberty, it was only
liberty to act as he chose, as he was
cruel, tyrannical, and imperious in
his practice — that he was a man of
great courage and fearless enterprise
— that he was fond of Ossian, had
his poems always in his mouth, and
spoke in heroic language : all which
was seen in the character and conduct
of Buonaparte ; therefore Oswald and
Buonaparte must be the same.

But, however much the doctor
was convinced of the truth and cor-
rectness of his own opinions, his
friends prevailed on him not to pub-
lish them.

MUSICAL REVIEW

Twelfth Vantasiafor thePiano-forte,
u'ith the favourite Themes in Ros-
sini a " Scmiramidc," composed.

and dedicated to Miss Rickets,
by Ferd. Ries. No. I. Op. 134.
Pr. 5s.— (Gouiding and Co.)

MUSICAL REVIEW.

2.37

The sight of these sheets has rais-
ed in us sensations resembling those
we feel at the approaching departure
of a friend. Mr. Ries has announc-
ed his farewell concert, intending, as
we understand, to bid adieu to Eng-
land, after a residence of upwards
of ten years, and to return to Bonn,
his native city, on the banks of the
Rhine, there to enjoy the fruits of
his unwearied industry and great
musical talents. We trust, however
— and the knowledge we have of his
active mind warrants the fond hope —
that Mr. Rics's retirement will not be
a farewell to the art to which, as well
as to his country, his career has been
an honour. Scarcely arrived at the
age of forty, that art has further
claims on its votary, and, we hope,
will have them for many years to
come. From his paternal retreat, we
flatter ourselves, the sound of his
lyre will often yet vibrate in the midst
of us. His productions may be less
frequent, less the offspring of occa-
sion, but as they are more likely to
proceed from spontaneous inspiration,
we are justified in expecting such
further genial effusions, as will com-
pensate, in some degree, the regret
which we are sure, not only the pro-
fession, but every one who knew j
him, must feel for his absence. His
zeal for the art, his genius and abili-
ties, the correctness of his principles,
and his manners as a gentleman, won
him the esteem of the higher ranks,
and the respect and attachment of
the professional and the private soci-
ety in which he moved.

Our readers will excuse us, if our
feelings on the present occasion ren-
der the exercise of our critical func-
tions with regard to the publication
before us more than usually arduous.
We are just now unfit to analyze

crotchets and quavers. It is a fanta-
sia ; it is by Ries; it is one of his best
productions of that class. Let this
be enough. We cannot, at this mo-
ment, say more.

Fantasia for the Piano -forte, in
tchich is introduced the admired
Round from the Historical Opera
of " Cortez, or the Conquest of
Mexico," composed, and dedicated
to Miss Lumsden, by J. B. Cra-
mer. Pr. 4s. — (Gould ing and Co.)
Mr. Bishop must feel highly grati-
fied in seeing such men as Cramer,
Ries, Kalkbrenner, Bochsa, &c. bu-
sied in writing fantasias, rondos, &c.
founded on subjects from his drama-
tic compositions. The frequency of
these publications proves that they
are in demand, and that these mas-
ters deem them worthy of their pens.
It is true, like skilful French cooks,
they would be able to dress up very
plain fare into savoury dishes; but
most of Mr. Bishop's produce we
have seen thus prepared, appeared
to us solid and wholesome food, wor-
thy of the seasoning bestowed upon
it. His round, " Yes, 'tis the Indian
drum," in Mr. Planche's drama of
" Ferdinand Cortez," is one of his
happiest recent efforts; and the judg-
ment of Mr. Cramer in selecting it,
is equal to the ability and taste he
has displayed in its treatment. The
whole fantasia is conceived in that
gentleman's pure classic style, and
written perfectly con amore. Al-
though we observe no executive dif-
ficulties of an appalling nature, the
performance will demand a player
habituated to the higher order of pi-
ano-forte compositions, capable of un-
derstanding and feeling what he has
to read.

Introduction and Air de Ballet, from
a Pastoral Romance of II. R.
I I 2

238

MUSICAL REVIEW.

Bishops; arranged for the Harp
and Piano-forte, and dedicated
to the Misses Parkinson, by W.
PI. Steil. Pr. 4s.— (Goulding and
Co.)

The theme of this " Air de Bal-
let" has long been a favourite ; it is
conspicuous for its lively graceful
ease, and, as such, would naturally,
in the hands of a professor of Mr.
Steil's taste and skill, give rise to a
superstructure of a corresponding
description. The movement is in-
teresting throughout; the digressions
are in the best style, and perfectly
in character. Both instruments are
fairly dealt by, quite concertante,
and the harp has by no means the
least portion of execution ; but there
are no deterring intricacies any where.
N. C. Bochsds Fantasia, with the
Airs, " Charmante Gabrielle" and
" My pretty Page," arranged for
the Piano-forte, and dedicated to
the Ladies of Miss Ilaynes' Es-
tablishment, by D. Bruguier. Pr.
3s. — (Goulding and Co.)
In our remarks upon some of Mr.
Bochsa's compositions for the harp,
we have expressed our opinion as to
the expediency of their being adapt-
ed for the piano-forte. Whether
the indefatigable pen of Mr. Bruguier
has taken the hint from us, or fol-
lowed a spontaneous impulse, is of no
consequence. His piano-forte ar-
rangement of the above fantasia, we
make no doubt, will meet with a fa-
vourable reception. It abounds in
pleasing melody, and the digressions
are in good taste, analogous to the
subjects, and properly diversified,
without putting the performer's pro-
ficiency to a severe test.
A Companion to the Musical Assist-
ant, containing all that is truly
useful to the Theory and Practice

of the Piano-forte, §c. ; also a
complete Dictionary of Words, as
adopted by the best modern Mas-
ters, designed particularly for the
Use of Schools, by Joseph Cog-
gins. Pr. 5s. — (Power, Strand.)
This is the first book of musical
instruction that has met our eye, in
which the German music types of
Mr. Clowes in Northumberland-court
have been intermixed with the letter-
press. We have once or twice taken
occasion to mention this establish-
ment in terms of deserved praise;
and the present work, we are sure,
will vouch for the correctness of our
commendation. The miserable exe-
cution of the musical typography in
our books on theory has hitherto
been a disgrace to the country; but
here every thing is clean, neat, and
pleasing to look at; and, what must
prove no small additional recom-
mendation to the musical press in
question, the price of this octavo,
notwithstanding its volume and care-
ful typographical execution, includ-
ing binding, amounts to five shil-
lings ; a circumstance which excites
surprise.

About nine years ago Mr. Coggins
published an elementary work, called
" The Musical Assistant," of which
we gave an account in this Magazine
(No. LXXXII. First Series, October
1815.) Our opinion on its merits was
favourable, and Mr. C. has done us
the honour of quoting an extract,
among several other criticisms passed
on the earlier work by " some of the
ablest critics of the present day," as
he is pleased to express himself.
This is really very handsome, and
we are happy in finding, that, taking
the new work altogether, the obliga-
tions of critical impartiality will not
compel us to infringe upon the good

MUSICAL ItKVIKW.

239

old maxim, " one good turn deserves
another."

We cannot at present lay our
hands upon Mr. C.'s prior book,
" The Musical Assistant," the suc-
cess of which, as he states, " has in-
duced the publisher to give the work
in its present form as a companion,
with a view to preserve the piano-
forte edition from being torn and de-
faced by the younger pupils" (those
sad little Vandals, who read with their
finger and thumb as much as with
their eyes), " as it has been accu-
rately revised by the author, for the
purpose of being studied in conjunc-
tion." From this statement, and in-
deed from an inspection of the pre-
sent " companion," we are warranted
in the inference, that both works to-
gether form a whole, a complete
body of elementary instruction, and
that the " companion" alone would
not entirely suffice for this purpose.
Thus the theory on the scales, for
instance (sect, xiii.) so far as the pre-
sent volume goes, is certainly not suf-
ficiently developed and elucidated,
considering its primary importance;
and in all probability the prior work,
in conjunction with the " companion,"
accomplishes that object. Some ad-
ditional and essential illustrations,
indeed, are given in the appendix;
but the whole doctrine, we think,
would have been susceptible of a
more ample and systematic treatment
even in the present volume. With
regard to the minor scale, we observe
that Mr. C. has followed the com-
mon practice of making the sixth,
major, on the old ground of avoid-
ing the distance of three semitones.
In an elementary book it was per-
haps as well to adhere to the beaten
track in this respect, until the old
error should be more generally ex-

ploded. But it is high time the mat-
ter should be set to rights. That a
major sixth, under certain circum-
stances, which it is not here the place
to mention, will occur in the minor
mood, in ascent, nay even in de-
scent, and ought to occur, no one
disputes; but the correct and au-
thentic minor scale, in the ascent as
well as in the descent, has a minor
sixth. Mr. C. himself seems to feel
a suspicion of this, when, in the ap-
pendix, p. 81, he gives the proper
scale as an occasional variety.

Our limits forbid us from entering
into the proofs in support of the
above assertion. They would furnish
matter for a distinct article; but we
may just hint, that the sixth in the
minor scale has its origin and derives
its harmony from the minor chord of
the subdominant. In the scale of
A minor, for instance, the sixth, F,
is derived from the minor chord of
D, i. e. from D, F ^ , A ; not from D,
F X, A surely. Let even a beginner
in harmony minorize any one major
motivo, in which the major sixth oc-
curs, occurs even in ascent ("Robin
Adair" for instance), and see whether
his own ear will not suggest the pro-
priety of changing that major sixth
in the maggiore into a minor sixth
for his minore.

This remark, as we have already
stated, is not made in the way of ob-
jection to Mr. Coggins following the
example of many, nay, of most of
his predecessors, an example which
has almost grown into law ; and we
should be sorry if our meaning were
so far misunderstood as to create an
unfavourable opinion of the general
merit of his labour, with which, taken
in the whole, we have every reason
to be satisfied. The language is plain
and intelligible; the questions and

240

MUSICAL IlKVIISW.

answers — if they do not exhaust —
comprise the essential topics and
points of elementary information, in-
cluding always the additional illus-
trations given in the appendix, which
occupies a considerable portion of
the whole work, and is principally
intended to bring the pupil's know-
ledge into practical play. The third
and last part of the book, a diction-
ary and index, contains the most
complete explication and occasionally
practical illustration of musical terms
we remember to have met with in
any book of instruction, and, ar-
ranged as it is, cannot fail to prove
of very great service.
Amuscmens tie V Opera, a Selection
of the most admired Pieces from
the latest foreign Operas and Bal-
lets, arranged for the Piano-forte,
without the Words. Nos. III. and
IV. Pr. 2s. 6d. each. — (Boosey
and Co. Holies-street.)
Referring to a former month of our
Miscellany (No. VI. Third Series),
for our comment upon the prior por-
tions of the above publication, we at
present content ourselves with stat-
ing, that the two numbers before us
include various pieces from Rossini's
opera, " Zelmira," which has been
recently brought forth at the King's
Theatre, and of the general charac-
ter of which we have already taken
an opportunity of giving our opinion.
The selection in these books is good;
and the arrangement for the piano-
forte calls for our unqualified com-
mendation. It is so complete, that
one or two of the pieces in this con-
densed form made a more favourable
impression on us than when we heard
them at the King's Theatre under
the tremendous uproar of wind in-
struments, which cloaked many of

their merits. It would be well if the
publishers distinguished every piece
by some title, containing a few words
from the commeneement of the text.
T. Boosey and Co.'s Selection of

Airs, varied Rondos, eye. for the

Piano and Violoncello, by the

most admired foreign Composers.

Book I. Pr. 3s. — (Boosey and Co.

Holies-street.)

A rondoletto by F. Lauska (Op.
39.) forms the contents of these sheets;
and, it is but justice to add, the se-
ries could not have had a better be-
ginning. Mr. L. a composer resid-
ing at Berlin, we believe, is not gene-
rally known in this country. His
style blends the most graceful melo-
diousness with classic and scientific
combinations. It is perhaps three
years ago that Messrs. Boosey pub-
lished " three pleasing rondos" by
this author, which must have made a
strong impression on our memory,
for at this moment the subjects are
fresh in our recollection. They rich-
ly merited their title. The present
rondoletto (in G), introduced by a
short but highly attractive adagio in
the same key, is written in a similar
style, and partakes of the character
of a polonaise. It is full of cantilena,
tender and chastened expression, and
does not require first-rate skill of
execution.

The violoncello part, which ap-
pears to be essential, is not of the
plainest description. Considering the
scarcity of good violoncello-players,
it would perhaps be desirable on both
sides, if in the progress of the col-
lection, an additional sheet were giv-
en, exhibiting the accompaniment in
an adaptation for the violin or flute,
to serve in cases where a bass-per-
former could not be procured.

MUSICAL RKVIKW.

241

Twelve Waltzes for the Piano-forte, \
by Maysetler. Pr. 2s. (>d. — (Boo-
sey and Co.)

Half-a-crown cannot be laid out by
the musical pupil with more satisfac-
tion. He will have twelve pretty short
tunes, which he may play with ease,
and, if he is sufficiently initiated in
the mystery of waltzing, dance to
perfection. The music is free from
any affectation of the grand genre in
composition, no ultra -combination,
nothing crabbed ; all runs smooth and
pleasantly, and, we must add, taste-
fully. These little things may be re-
commended as capital lessons, brief,
intelligible, and sure to take the scho-
lar's fancy.

Preceptive Melodies, forming a
pleasing and instructive Sequel to
the Five Finger Airs, composed in
various characters, progressively
arranged, in the humble endea-
vour to lead the Pupil by the ea-
siest gradations from the natural
2>osition of the hand, to a system
of fingering for the Piano-forte,
by J. Green. Pr. 6s. — (J. Green,
Soho-square.)

'Tis a " lengthy" title to copy; but
as it fully explains the object of the
book — an object, moreover, which in
our opinion the work as fully accom-
plishes—the transcript will shorten
our comment. Mr. Green's " Five
Finger Airs," i. e. tunes requiring no
change in the position of the five
fingers, were noticed at the time
of their publication. The present
book, after some very sensible intro-
ductory remarks, leads the pupil on
to such aivs as demand alterations in
the digital mechanism. The various
rules and artifices, however, are not
drily strung together; they are pro-
gressively, cautiously, and very gra-

dually introduced; not by the vehicle
of abstract passages, but by means
of short, yet complete melodies, near-
ly fifty in number, which, as they suc-
ceed each other, exemplify every
new digital manoeuvre, and shew its
use and advantage, preceded as they
are by the author's observations at
every additional step.

The benefit resulting from such a
mode of instruction is so evident,
that any expression of approbation
would be quite superfluous, and
might only weaken the impression
which we would wish to be excited
by Mr. Green's praiseworthy labour.
But we will add, that his book may
be of great service even to those that
are sufficiently advanced to play all
the airs with apparent ease in their
way. As he not only illustrates, but
reasons as he proceeds, the work
may be the means of correcting vices
in fingering, which negligence may
have suffered to creep in.
Overture to the Opera of Otello,
arranged as a Duet for two Vio-
lins, composed by Rossini. Pr. 2s.
— (Hodsoll, High-Holborn.)
This is one of the best dramatic
overtures of Rossini. We were de-
lighted with it at the King's Theatre ;
and we have seen a foreign edition
of an adaptation for four hands on
the piano-forte, which struck us as
uncommonly effective. Even on the
very reduced scale in which it here
appears, it has its proportionate at-
tractions ; because Rossini knows how
to give abundance of work to his vio-
lins. The arrangement for these
two instruments is satisfactory; but
some of the very peculiar tints of
piano and forte have been left unno-
ticed, without any apparent reason.

242
FASHIONS.

LONDON FASHIONS.

DINNER DRESS.
Dress of emerald green gros dc
Naples; corsage plain, and bordered
at the top with a satin band of the
same colour, and a narrow tucker of
tulle: the sleeve is very short and
full, and composed of crepe lisse;
the fulness regulated by pyramidal
bands of gros de Naples, and finish-
ed in a double satin band round the
arm. A very novel kind of flounce
ornaments the bottom of the skirt,
which is cut nearly a quarter of a
yard up, and a fulness of crepe lisse
introduced, and formed into a regu-
lar row of demi-bells, the lower part
kept extended by two satin pipings,
and the top of each surmounted with
a double satin circlet and a triplet of
satin leaves appliqute. Fichu of crepe
lisse, edged with satin piping, and
trimmed all round with narrow blond,
confined at the shoulders with corded
leaves, and arranged in front to form
a stomacher, the points coming below
the ceinture, which is also edged with
satin and blond, and unites behind in
a leaf rosette with the corner of the
fichu. The hair is separated in front,
and a pearl comb confines it on each
side from the temple; round the back
of the head it is arranged in large
regular curls. Ear-rings and neck-
lace of rubies. White kid gloves;
white satin shoes; India shawl.

RALE diu<:ss.
Dress of pale pink tulle over a sa-
tin slip ; the corsage rather long and
full, of a moderate height; the bust
is encircled with a row of pink satin
leaves, uniformly arranged, and in-

terwoven with a white satin rouleau:
tucker of the finest blond : the sleeves
are short and full, slashed and regu-
lated by the entwining of a pink sa-
tin rouleau round the centre, and
set in a folded band round the arm.
The skirt has the novelty of a little
fulness at the sides; and from the
centre of the waist downwards is a
satin trimming, cut transversely into
oblong parallel segments, impercep-
tibly increasing in width till it reaches
that which goes round the bottom of
the skirt, which is of a regular size,
and entwined by a white satin rou-
leau: beneath are two broad pink sa-
tin rouleaus. Head-dress, a wreath
of Calamata blossoms or Provence
roses; the hair parted on the fore-
head, in large curls on each side, and
turned up behind a la Grecque.
Necklace and ear-rings of pearl set
in embossed gold, with an elegant
cross of St. Louis in front. White
kid gloves, and white satin shoes.

GENERAL OBSERVATIONS ON FASHION
AND DRESS.

Very little change is yet observa-
ble in promenade dress. Furs, in-
deed, are less in request, but they
are by no means entirely laid aside.
The large tippet is still occasionally
used for the morning walk, but shawls
are more generally adopted in the
middle of the day. A few velvet
spencers also have already been seen,
without any other envelope than a
scarf tied carelessly round the throat.

Velvet bonnets are still considered
fashionable; but we saw also a good
many of Leghorn, and some satin of

• K'AmjM/vs/raicrfff^.

GENERAL OBSERVATIONS ON FASHION AND DRESS.

light colours. Ribbons, or a mixture
of ribbons and spring flowers, are
used to adorn Leghorn bonnets;
those of satin are decorated with
feathers.

Several elegant novelties in spring
fashions have been submitted to our
inspection, which we shall endeavour
to describe to our readers. A spencer
of grass green velours epingle, mo-
derately long in the waist, made to
fasten in front, and with a very low
collar : the collar and mancheron to
correspond; the latter very full, and
disposed in three drapery folds. The
mancheron is confined to the arm by
a band, which is concealed by the
last of the folds. The back full at
the bottom, and something broader
than they have lately been worn.
The bust is ornamented, in a very no-
vel style, with rouleaus of satin, in
the form of rings interlaced. This
trimming goes down the bust in a
sloping direction, from the point of
the shoulder to the bottom of the
waist, where it meets ; the ceinture
is of embroidered ribbon, fastened by
a dead gold clasp.

The bonnet worn with this spen-
cer is also of velours cpingle; the
crown very low, and the material
disposed in bouillons on the top ; three
bands of satin go round the crown
at some distance from each other,
and are fastened by small dead gold
buckles. Two very full plumes of
marabouts are placed at each side of
the crown, in such a manner as to
cross in front : the brim is very wide
and rather large; it stands a good
deal out from the face; and the
strings, attached on the inside of the
brim, are of broad rich ribbon to
correspond.

A pelisse of pale lavender levan-
tine, lined with white, is also reinark-
Vot. III. No. XVI.

able for the novelty of its trimming,
which consists of a wreath of oak-
leaves formed by quilting, and very
much raised by wadding.

Morning dress begins now to be
very generally made in cambric or
jaconot muslin; the blouse form is at
present most prevalent, and certainly
is very well adapted for morning
dress. The trimming of the blouse
consists always of tucks. Some la-
dies, who dislike this plain style of
trimming, adopt the robe blouse,
which admits of greater variety J
flounces, bouillonne, and a mixture
of tucks and entre-deux, being all
used for these dresses.

The only novelty we have seen in
dinner dress is a s'own of lilac pros
de Naples : the trimming consists of
two very full rouleaus of tulle of the
same colour, which are ornamented
with satin leaves edged with narrow
blond lace: the bottom rouleau is
much larger than the other, and both
stand out a good deal from the dress ;
the leaves are placed pretty close to
each other. The corsage, made to the
shape, and square across the bust, is
ornamented with a narrow rouleau of
satin, beneath which is a row of deep
tabs, which fall low upon the breast,
and are edged with narrow blond;
the epaulette is also composed of
tabs : the dress falls much off 'the shoul-
der, and the shoulder-strap, some-
thing broader than they have lately
been worn, is also edged round with
narrow blond lace. This is one of
the most elegant and novel dresses
that we have seen for some time.

Some ladies have adopted the
French fashion of wearing a scarf,
either of gold, silver, or plain gauze,
disposed among the hair, something
in the style of a turban. If the
scarf is of gold or silver, there is sel-

K. K

244

FRENCII FEMALE FASHIONS.

(lorn any other ornament worn with
it; but if any are used, they must be
feathers: if the scarf is of plain
gauze, flowers are always intermixed
with it.

Fashionable colours are, grass-
green, lavender, ponceau rose, a pe-
culiar shade of gray lilac, rose, and
Spanish brown.

FRENCH FEMALE FASHIONS.

Paris, March 18.

My dear Sophia,

Though our court mourning
has not yet expired, it is not now ge-
nerally adopted, except at court, or
on occasions of ceremony; fancy
black, or half mourning, being more
worn for the spectacle, and colours
for the promenade. Black satin man-
tles, however, which had been for
some time on the decline, are now
very generally adopted in walking
dress. They are always lined with co-
loured sarsnet. The most fashion-
able have a single pelerine, made very
large, composed of black velvet, and
trimmed with black blond lace, or
rich black silk fringe.

The most fashionable style of walk-
ing dress is of the pelisse form, very
much trimmed. They are in gene-
ral of levantine or gros de Naples,
and the trimming of satin. Two
rouleaus go round the skirt and up
each side of the front; between them,
on the front of the dress, is a chain
formed of narrow rouleaus of satin.
This chain, broad at the bottom of
the gown, and narrower as it ap-
proaches the waist, is again extend-
ed upon the bust, so as to be very
broad at the top of the bust. The
corsage fastens behind. The ccln-
ture is of satin, tied in a bow and
short ends at the side. The sleeve,
made to sit close at the arm, is finished
at the wrist by a satin rouleau. The
epaulette, very full and puffed out
on the shoulder, is cut in slashes,

which are filled by bands interlaced.
There is no collar, these dresses
being always worn with embroidered,
muslin, or tulle collars, to fall over.

Morning bonnets are generally com-
posed of gros de Naples of very full
colours, lined and trimmed with blue
jonquil or ponceau. The crown is
ornamented in front with four large

lozenges on each side ; a fall of black
blond lace, deep enough to form a
curtain-veil, is attached to the edge
of the brim.

Black velvet bonnets are still in
favour, but, except in mourning, they
are no longer lined with black. Tro-
cadero, rose colour, and ponceau
are the favourite hues for linings.
The brims are something larger, and
still very wide. Many walking bon-
nets have no other trimming than a
full knot of satin, to correspond with
the lining.

The most elegant hats for the spec-
tacle are of white gauze. The brim
is rather large, and nearly of the same
size all round. These hats are en-
tirely covered with a bouillonnc of
blond net, and adorned with a gar-
land of rose laurel and yellow cloves.

Black China crape is now very ge-
nerally adopted by those elegantes
who appear in mourning: it is trim-
med with a mixture of soft crape and
black satin. The most fashionable
style of half-mourning for social par-
ties is black soft crape, trimmed with
an intermixture of white crape and
black satin. The bonnet, toque, or

FASHION AHLK l-UUNITUUE.

245

turban, must also be black witli white
feathers, and the necklace, &c. &c.
jet.

Half-mourning is also much worn in
full dress, but then it is white crape
over black satin: the trimming con-
sists of ruches bouilhnne or rouleaus ;
there are generally two of the latter,
each entwined with two narrow sa-
tin ones: each rouleau is drawn in
the drapery style on one side of
the dress, where it is ornamented
with a bouquet of white roses or li-
lies. I must observe, that a double
rouleau of white satin is placed be-
tween the crape ones.

The bodies of coloured silk or
tulle gowns in full dress are now very
much ornamented with white blond
lace, which is disposed on the corsage
in perpendicular rows. A full quil-
ling of blond lace stands up from
the point of the shoulder round the
back, and a double fall forms an

epaulette. A new trimming for full
dress gowns consists of a wreath of
wild endive, formed of the same ma-
terial as the gown. The endive is
interlaced, and at the base of each
head is a knot of satin. Another
very fashionable style of trimming
consists of tulle disposed in large
plaits, so as to form fans, and be-
tween each a bouquet of flowers.
Ribbons spotted with gold, called
rubans pluie-d'or, have just been in-
troduced for ceintures, scarfs, and to
wear in the hair in full dress.

The head-dress for very young
people in mourning or half mourn-
ing consists of black or white flowers :
roses, lilies, jessamine, pinks, and vio-
lets, are most in favour.

Fashionable colours are, gold co-
lour, Trocadero, lavender, pale blue,
carnation, gray, and rose colour.

Adieu! Always your

Eudocia.

FASHIONABLE FURNITURE.

A CABIN F.T GLASS.

This piece of furniture is intended
for a cabinet room, the chief parts of
which are supposed to be fitted up
with receptacles for medals, coins,
gems, and also for collections in con-
chology, entomology, and other spe-
cimens in natural history. The glass
frame is suitably designed, and com-
posed of similar materials to the ca-
binet, and is intended to combine
with the general fittings-up of the

apartment. If executed in satin wood,
or in stained imitations of it, it would
have a pleasing effect ; and the chairs
and tables being designed to corre-
spond, the whole would be consider-
ably improved. Lilac, bright green,
and fawn colours agree admirably for
the wall -colours and draperies of
rooms so fitted up, which should have
the appt arance of study and retire-
ment.

INTELLIGENCE, LITERARY, SCIENTIFIC, &c.

Mr. Ackermann is preparing for pub-
lication, A Picturesque Tour of the Rivers
Ganges and Jumna, in India, from origi-
nal drawings made on the spot by Lieu-

I of his Majesty's service in Bengal. This
work will embrace the most remarkable

! and picturesque scenes in the valleys of
those two celebrated rivers, and will ex-

tenant-Colonel Forrest, late on the staff i1 hibit the grand and interesting remains of

K K 2

'24(5

INTELLIGENCE, LITERARY, SCIENTIFIC, &C.

ancient splendour and art scattered over
their extensive margins ; the villages and
cities, mosques and pagodas, temples
and magnificent mausoleums; together
with the costumes of the inhabitants, and
the various and luxuriant scenery which
throughout adorns their banks. Some
of the earlier and more remarkable oc-
currences in the history of this extraor-
dinary and interesting country will be
interspersed through the descriptive part
of the work, and likewise a sketch of the
present state of those provinces of Ben-
gal bordering on the two rivers. The
work will be published in six monthly
parts, containing twenty-four coloured
engravings, several vignettes, and a map
of the valleys of the Ganges and Jumna,
and forming a companion to Acker-
mann's Picturesque Tours of the Rhine
and Seine.

Mr. Jennings has in the press, a new
work on European Scenery, by Captain
Batty. It will comprise a selection of
sixty of the most picturesque views on
the Rhine and Maine, in Belgium and in
Holland, and will be published uniform-
ly with his French and German scenery.
The first number will appear on the 1st
of May.

Miss S. E. Hatfield, of Truro, is about
to publish, by subscription, in two post
8vo. volumes, The Wanderer of Scandi-
navia, or Sweden Delivered, in five can-
tos, and other poems.

Captain Brooke has nearly ready for
the press, A Narrative of a short Resi-
dence in Norwegian Lapland; with an
Account of a Winter's Journey perform-
ed with Reindeer through Norwegian
Russia and SwedishLapland, interspersed
with numerous plates.

An English translation of Travels in
Brasil in the years 1817-1820, under-
taken at the command of the King of
Bavaria, by Drs. Spix and Martins, will
speedily appear.

Two new works on South America, by
Mrs. Graham, are announced: Journal
cf a Voyage to Biasit, and Residence

there during part of the years 1821-23,
including an account of the revolution
which brought about the independence
of the Brasilian empire — and, Journal of
a Residence in Chili, and Voyage from
j the Pacific in 1822 and 3 ; preceded by
j an account of the revolutions in Chili
■ since 1810, and particularly of the trans-
actions of the squadron of Chili under
Lord Cochrane.

Dr. Robert Southeyis about to publish
i A Tale of Paraguay, in one 12mo. vol.

Mrs. Hoffland has in the press, a talc,
, entitled Decision.

Captain Basil Hall, R. N. is preparing
for publication, Extracts from a Journal
\ written on the Coasts of Chili, Perv, and
Mexico, in the years 1820, 1, and 2;
! containing some account of the recent
revolutions, together with observations
: on the state of society in those countries.
In the press, and speedily will be pub-
lished, The Cross and the Crescent; an
I .

heroic metrical romance, partially found-

' ed on Mathilde, by the Rev. James
| Beresford, M. A. Rector of Kibworth,
j Leicestershire, late Fellow of Merton
j College.

Mr. Bullock's exhibition of the curio-
, sities which he collected during his re-
| cent visit to Mexico, will be opened to the
public before Easter, at the Egyptian
Hall, Piccadilly. It will be arranged in
two rooms. The upper will contain mo-
dels and casts of buildings, pyramids,
and other monuments ; casts of idols of
stupendous dimensions ; smaller idols,
elaborately carved in the hardest materi-
als ; rude pictures, and many other extra-
ordinary specimens, illustrative of the
state of the arts among the ancient inha-
bitants of Mexico. The lower will be
devoted to the natural productions of the
country. The series of fruits and vege-
tables comprehends not only specimens
of all those which are capable of being
preserved in their natural state, but like-
wise models, in full size as well as in
little, of numberless others, many of which
are here alike unknown in form and name.

poktky.

247

Of nearly two hundred species of birds,
the greater number are undescribed. Of
the fishes of Mexico and its coast, Mr.
Bullock's catalogue embraces between
two and three hundred species. It is to
be regretted, that several living animals,
new or little known in Europe, have not
borne our climate. A cabinet of minerals
completes the collections belonging to the
different kingdoms of nature. This vast

mass of materials, assembled by the pro-
prietor in so short a space of time, suffi-
ciently attests the enterprising spirit and
industry of our countryman ; and cannot
fail to afford equal gratification to the
lounger in search of amusement, and to
the man of science desirous of obtaining
more intimate knowledge respecting a
country of which we are still in a state of
comparative ignorance.

SORROW'S ADDRESS TO THE
POPPY.

By J. M. Lacf.y.
Farewell, bright rose! thy charms no more

To this sad breast are dear;
Though once I thought thy lovely flow'r

The best of all the year.

Farewell to ev'ry other gem

That blooms in summer's hour!
I court a weed, whose rougher stem

Yet bears a brilliant flow'r.

To thee, red poppy, now I pay

A willing bosom's theme ;
For thou hast sooth'd my sickly day

With many a happy dream:

Haststol'n away the canker grief,

And bid those moments cease,
That seem'd too sad to hope relief,

Till thou didst bring me peace.

E'en pain before thy pow'r has fled;

The eye, unclos'd before,
Has shut in sleep, so deep and dead,

As though 'twould wake no more.

These are thy potent charmful pow'rs j

For these I love thee then,
Thou worst of weeds, thou best of flow'rs —

Thou foe and friend of men.

For though thy soothings are divine,

When man but seeks thy use,
Yet sometimes madness may incline

To deep and dire abuse.

His own, or else another's life,

Before thy pow'r may fall :
Murd'rous, or suicidal strife,

For punishment must call.

Yet the great good thou dost, bright weed,

Is more than all thy harm :
Hail then, red poppy ! take thy meed ;

I own thy pow'rful charm.

Still soften wretchedness and pain;

Still give those dreamy hours,
That seem like health return'd again,

Thou best of Nature's flow'rs!

THE STORM:

A Fragment.
Slow in the eastern sky, the orb of day
His ruddy tints disclos'd. Anon his beams,
In sportive mood, dane'd in the crystal

wave.
With lightsome hearts Neptune's rude sons

commence
Their daily task. The balmy breeze of morn
Distends her sails, and through the liquid

plain
The stately ship pursues her trackless course.
Inspiring hope, that lights the youthful breast
(And e'en illumes the languid eye of age),
Cheer'd the gay crew. The fragrant breath

of spring,
That swept o'er flow'ry mead, o'er blossom'd

spray,
And gardens rich in Nature's choicest sweets,
Dispeus'd its odours to the ravish'd sense.
Above, the azure canopy of heav'n,
Whose bright serenity no vapour dimm'd —
Below, the rippling waters, that appear'd
With gentle care the vessel to support,
As a fond mother clasps her lovely babe,
Foretold a speedy issue of their hopes.

Far greater joy
Inspir'd their souls than spring or youth can

yield.
They sought their native land. Thro' years

of toil
The thoughts of those they lov'd, whose ar-
dent prayers
Were breath'd alone for them, made labour

light.
Delightful thought, on which the adventurer

feeds,

248

POETRY

Who braves the horrors of t.he rugged north,
Or pants beneath the sun's meridian ray,
In Afrie's torrid zone.

A dark'ning speck
Now veil'd the horizon — larger it became—
Darker it grew — it spread, o'ershadowing
The beautiful blue sky. A murmuring
Came on the wind — a piercing cry was heard,
The storm - bird's scream — utter'd as if to

warn
The mariners of danger near at hand.
The oldest seaman, nurs'd in peril's lap,
Could not anticipate, without dismay,
The coming night. Sure omens of a storm —
A fearful storm — in terror they beheld.
The breeze increas'd — anon it died away.
A deathlike silence reign'd. As in array
Two hostile armies meet— a pause ensues —
Now the fierce onset the adjacent hills
Re-echo : so with vengeful fury fraught
The tempest-winds arose to agitate
The bosom of the deep. The mountain waves
Now bore the vessel to the clouds, and now
She headlong sinks. A frightful gulf beneath
Yawns to receive her. Darkness reign'd

around :
The foaming billows, with a desperate sweep,
Rush o'er the deck. At length the murky

clouds
Discharge the pitiless torrent. All aghast,
The wretched crew, mute, motionless, survey
At intervals, when the red lightning's glare
Illumes the horrid scene, impending death!
Despair sat on each brow. With folded arms,
Some ventur'd to address a prayer toheav'n,
Who never pray'd before ; while some, more

stern,
With horrid imprecations curs'd the honr
That gave them birth. The clam'rous gale

but mock'd
Their idle lamentations. Yet once more
The signal-gun was heard— a last essay —
Life is still dear while hope of life remains:
Deceitful hope ! cloth'd like the queen of

flow'rs
In beautiful attire, a deadly thorn
Lurks 'neath its sweets. Amid the fearful

strife
Of battling elements, no pitying hand
Is stretch >d to save. Sudden the cries of death
Are hush'd ! >Tis o'er ! they sleep a peaceful
sleep.

Not one escapes to tell their wretched lot.
Ill-fated souls! scarce had their own blue

cliffs
Welcom'd their earnest gaze. So near their

homes,
Where many, many days they fondly deem'd
Of happiness and joy were yet in store,
To perish thus! Night clos'd the scene — the

morn
Saw fathers, mothers, wives, with hurried

step
And dread suspense, traverse the sandy

beach.
The storm had ceas'd — its dire effects ap-

pear'd —
The shatter's fragments of the luckless ship,
The pallid corses of her hapless crew,
Bestrew'd the calmer surface of the deep.
Each wave impell'd some human form ashore.
The once-lov'd features of an only son
Parents recall "id, though time had wrought a

change.
Wives sought their husbands, children sought

their sires,
Maidens their lovers. Grief alone was seen
In various shapes. Some wrung their hands,
Some tore their hair, while some with frenzy

rav'd.
Some could not weep. The sweetest mourner

there,
Beside a youthful corse poor Mary knelt.
She press'd his clay-cold hand. Awhile her

heart,
In silent sorrow wrapt, knew no relief.
The fount of grief at length dissolv'd j the

tears
Cours'd down her cheeks. She look'd around

amaz'd,
To find that misery reign'd in other hearts
Desolate as her own. " Now am I left
In the wide world without one friend!" she

cried.
A smiling cherub on her breast repos'd —
A lovely boy, too young to know his loss :
Waking, he stretch'd to her his little hand ;
The smile of innocence illum'd his face.
" Alone, said I ? No, no ; while thou art

left,
Dear image of thy sire, to bless my sight,
For thee I'll live. I am a mother still !"

vv. s.

Printed by L. Harrison, 373, Strand.

THE

&eposttorp

ARTS, LITERATURE, FASHIONS,

Manufactures^ §c.

THE THIRD SERIES.

Vol. Ill,

May 1, 1824.

N° XVII.

EMBELLISHMENTS. page

1. View of Wanstf. ad-House, late the Seat of W. P. T. Long Wel-

lesley, Esq. .......... 249

2. Delaford Park, the Seat of C. Clowes, Esq. . ,251

'.i. Ladies' Morning Dress ... ........ 308

4. Dinner Dress ......... ib.

5. Astronomical Clock .......... 300

6. Muslin Pattern.

CONTENTS.

MISCELLANIES.

Viv.ws of Country Seats. — Wanstead-
House, late the Seat of William Pole
Tii.nkv Lono Weli.eslf.y, F.sq. . . 24!)
Delaford Park, the Seat of C. Clowes,

Esq 2JI

A Lesson for Fathers ib.

The Frolicsome Duke 2.36

The Loiterer in Paris. No. VIII . . 2oS
Description of the Slochd Altriman, or
the Nursing Cave, commonly called
the Spar Cave, in the Isle of Sky . . 262
Madalcna, or the Consequences of Elope-
ment (concluded) 264

Some Particulars of Lunwio von Beet-
hoven, the celebrated Musical Compo-
ser 208

Martha the Gipsy : From " Sayings and
Doinys," attributed to Mr. Theodore

Hook 270

The Hen-pecked Author 276

The Confessions of a Rambler No. VI 1 1. 278
Remarkable Instance of Religious Into-
lerance in the Seventeenth Century . 282

MUSICAL REVIEW.

De Pinna's British and Foreign Popular

Airs

Cutler's " Ans&itot que la lumiire" . .

" Mary," a Song

." Sweet Ellen, the Maid of the

AGE
288-
ib.

289

ib.

Mill'

286

287

ib.

288

Vocal Anthology, Part X

Severn's " How all is still around me"

Moralt's Divertimento for the Piano-
forte

Rirs's Rondo on Bishop's Air "When in.
disgrace" .........

Parry's " A lover's eyes can gaze an ea-
gle blind" 290

- — I " Only love, my love, the more" ib.

Kialimark's '* Isabel" jb.

Rawlino^'s Divertimento ib.

Harris's " My bonnie bark" .... 291

FINE ARTS.

Mr. Bullock's Collections illustrative

of Ancient and Modern Mexico . . 291
Mr. Cooke's Exhibition of Drawings . 299

Society of British Artists 304

Grecian Gallery 307

FASHIONS.

London Fashions. — Ladies' Morning
Dress 308

Ladies' Dinner Dress ib.

Fashionable Furniture. — Astronomical
Clock

INTELLIGENCE,

LITERARY AND SCIENTIFIC

POETRY.

To the River Lea

309
310
ib.

LONDON :

PRINTED FOR, AND PUBLISHED BY, R. ACKERMANN, 101, STRAND;

To tvhoiii Communications (post-paid) are requested to be addressed.

Printed by L. Harrison, 37:5, Strand.

TO READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS.

The length to which our department of the Fine Arts this month extends has
obliged us to defer several articles intended for insertion in the present Number.

Count Vivalda — J. F. — Felicite — Picture of a Princess, shall appear in our
next.

T. C. L. — F. V. — A Harmonist — Mechanicus, and Remarks on the State of
Political Parties, arc not suitable to the Repository.

Persons who reside abroad, and who wish to be supplied with this Work every Month as
published, may have it sent to them, free of Postage, to New- York, Halifax, Quebec, and
to any part of the West Indies, at <£4 12s. per Annum, by Mr. Thornhill, of the General
Post-Office, at No. 21, Sherborne-lane ; to Hamburgh, Lisbon, Cadiz, Gibraltar, Malta, or
any Part of the Mediterranean, at £\ 12s. per Annum, by Mr. Serjeant, of the General
Post-Office, at No. 22, Sherborne-lane ; and to the Cape of Good Hope, or any part of the
East Indies, by Mr. Guy, at the East-India House. The money to be paid at the time of
subscribing, for either 3, 6, 9, or 12 months.

This Work may also be had of Messrs. Akijon and Kkat, Rotterdam.

THE

&eposttorp

ARTS, LITERATURE, FASHIONS,

Manufactures, fyc.

THE T

D SERIES.

Vol. III.

May 1, 1824.

N° XVII.

VIEWS OF COUNTRY-SEATS.

WANSTEAD-HOU8E, THE SEAT OF WILLIAM POLE TIt.NEt LONG
WELLESLEY, ESQ.

This magnificent mansion was de-
signed by Colin Campbell, in the year
1705, and built under his direction
for Sir Richard Child, afterwards
Earl Tilney. It ranks decidedly
among the highest class of English
mansions, as regards its style of ar-
chitecture, finishing, and magnitude,
or its interior decorations. It ex-
tends in front about 260 feet, while
the depth is 80 feet. It consists of
a centre, with two uniform wings ; the
former embellished by a noble pedi-
ment, supported by six columns of
the Corinthian order, resting on a
bold projecting basement. This com-
municates by a double flight of steps
to the great hall and saloon, magni-
ficent in size and splendid in deco-
rations: these again communicate
with the state apartments, which ex-
tend along the entire front. The
whole of the south front is occupied
Vol. ITT. No. XVII.

by a ball-room, which measures G 4
feet by 24. The superb furniture
that meets the eye in this double
suite of state apartments ; the em-
blematical and allegorical ceilings
that grace these rooms, painted by
Kent, Cassali, and other eminent art-
ists, coupled with the grandeur of the
building, qualify Wanstead to rank
with the first-rate English mansions.

Beneath the grand entrance is the
entrance to the sub-hall, supported
by eight stone pillars of the Ionic or-
der: this communicates right and left
with the offices on the ground-floor.

The principal or western front is
further embellished and assisted in
its imposing effect by stone parapets
and detached obelisks, which, as
viewed from the grounds, have a fine
appearance. The Tilney arms in
bold basso-relievo grace the tympa-
num of the pediment: while a medal-
I. i.

230

VVANSTIIAD-IIOVSK.

lion portrait of the architect, cut in
stone, is placed over the door to the
great hall.

The eastern front has, as well as
the western, a central pediment; but
this, in accordance with the best spe-
cimens of Italian edifices, is subor-
dinate to the principal front, being
raised on six three-quarter columns,
with a stone terrace, inclosed by a
balustrade, which extends only in
front of the grand saloon.

This edifice occupies the site of
an ancient house, which ranked roy-
al and noble inmates among its pro-
prietors ; for it had been possessed by
Sir William Mildmay, George Mar-
quis of Buckingham, King James I.
Charles Blount, Earl of Devonshire,
and Robert Rich, Earl of Leicester.
This house being found inadequate
to the domestic establishment of Sir
Richard Child, he caused it to be
pulled down, and replaced by the
present splendid structure, which too
can boast of its royal and noble oc-
cupants ; for it afforded a retreat for
the present royal family of France
during their exile. It was here the
Prince Regent, with a noble party,
met to congratulate the Marquis, now
Duke of Wellington, on his return
from the glorious campaign in Spain
and Portugal.

The whole of this property came
into the possession of the Wellesley
family by the marriage, in 1812, of
Mr. Long Wellesley to Miss Cathe-
rine TilneyLong, daughter and heir-
ess of Sir James Tilney Long, Bart.
Besides the Wanstead property, this
lady possessed in her own right fine
and extensive estates in Essex, Wilts,
Hants, Yorkshire, and Dorsetshire.

The park is spacious and well
wooded, particularly to the east,
where its forest-like appearance has
a fine effect, breaking away into the

distant country. The home scene is
rich in fine timber, and the immedi-
ate vicinity of the house gay and fra-
grant with flowering shrubs. A fine
vista extends from the eastern front
to the river Rod ing, a pleasing stream,
that adds considerably to the beauty
of the grounds, being formed into a
spacious sheet of water in the midst
of the woods: an extensive grotto
decorates the margin, and is said to
have cost upwards of 2000/.

Our Viewr of this fine Mansion is
from the west, near the principal
entrance to the park: the avenue
from this entrance is intercepted by
the circular piece of water shewn in
the view, around which, on either
side, the drive continues to the house.

In the year 1735, a Roman tesse-
lated pavement was discovered in
this park in high preservation : it was
composed of brick tessera?, of vari-
ous sizes and colours. In the centre
was the representation of a man on
a beast. Several coins were found
with it: some of the Emperor Va-
lens. It measured about 16 feet by
20. Not far distant from the pave-
ment were discovered some brick
foundations, with fragments of urns,
Roman coins, patera?, and other spe-
cimens of ancient art.

We have described this splendid
mansion as it appeared when our
view of it was taken: it is now no
more. The house itself and the mag-
nificent furniture wrere soon after-
wards ordered by the owner to be sold
by public auction. Mr. John Robins
of Regent-street, late of Warwick-
street, began the sale the 10th June,
1822; it ended 23d July, and pro-
duced 41,880/. 0s. 3d. The mansion
was sold also by auction by the same
gentleman, on the 12th May, 1823,
and produced 10,000/. It has since
been pulled down.

tr>\

UELAFORD PARK,

SEAT OF C. CLOWES, ESQ.

Tins seat is an elegant quadrangu-
lar building, situated on rising ground,
that overlooks the river Colne, in the
parish of Iver. It was the residence
of Sir Win. Young, Bart, a man
whose liberality and benevolence will
long be remembered at Iver, from his
attention to the poor, and from some
useful works projected and executed
at his sole expense, of which we -need
only mention the bridge over the
Colne and a poor-house. After Sir
William, Mr. Shergold became the
proprietor, and he sold it to Lord Kil-
morey, of whom it was purchased by
the present owner. Since it has be-
come this gentleman's property, he
has with great taste made several ad-
ditions. One of the principal em-

bellishments is a circular Portico to
the principal front, as represented in
the annexed Engraving : it is pow-
erful for the edifice, but, as seen be-
neath the trees that overhang the
drive, it has afine effect. The grounds
are pleasing, and highly decorated
with wood to the rear of the house,
extending to the banks of the Colne.
This river adds considerably to the
beauty of the grounds, and, as seen
from the principal aparti nts, its
suavity has a pretty effect. Combin-
ed with the village church, that
crowns the brow of the hill which
rises to the right, it adds consider-
ably to the beauty of that part of the
country.

A LESSON FOR FATHERS.

Monsieur Armand was a widow-
er with only one child, a daughter,
for whose sake he often declared he
never would marry again. His Emi-
ly, as she grew up, seemed disposed
to make every return for this sacri-
fice; for she frequently declared,
that it was her resolution never to
marry, because she would not take
upon her duties which must interfere
with those she owed her dear papa.

The resolutions of fifteen are sel-
dom so stable as those of fifty, at least
it was so in this case: M. Armand
remained single, but his daughter
married; and her marriage furnished
the strongest proof of the affection
of her doting father. M. le Comte
d'Orfeuille, a gentleman of noble
birth, but small fortune, saw and ad-

mired Emily. He was willing to
overlook her being the daughter of
a negotiant, and raise her to the dig-
nity of a comtesse, but he required
what he called a little sacrifice on
the part of M. Armand: this little
sacrifice was to make over his whole
fortune to his daughter. The dot-
ing father, who looked upon his
Emily as being in herself a pearl
above price, rejected the proposition
with disdain. The comte protested
he was in despair, but his love for
Mademoiselle Armand would never
permit him to lead her to the altar
unless he could support her as his
wife ought to be supported, and this
could not be done unless M. Armand
complied with his desire. M. Ar-
mand declared that he never would :
L i- 2

151

A LESSON FOR FATHERS.

the comte made his parting bow, and
Emily then tried the effect of her
eloquence-
She knew the direct road to the
heart of her father, and she took it.
It was not the loss of her own hap-
piness, or the wreck of her own
hopes, for which her tears flowed;
no, she protested she could have
borne that, but her grief arose from
the afflicting thought that her dear
father doubted her affection: it was
that which caused her anguish, and
she was sure in the end would break
her heart.

Armand fell into the snare: he
did not doubt her affection, and to
prove that he did not, he acceded to
the demand of the comte. The lovers
were united, and, during the first
month, it seemed doubtful, whether
the new married pair in the fulness
of their bliss, or the father to whom
they owed it, were the happiest.
Armand had always thought himself
blest as a parent, but he now fancied
he was more blest than ever.

In a very few months, however,
some doubts of his excessive felicity
began to occur to him. He could
not help observing, that his daughter
was seldom at home but when she
had a crowd of company, and upon
those occasions every body was more
noticed and attended to than her
father. He thought too that her
manner towards those old friends
who still visited him was cold and
constrained. " But she is so young,"
said he to himself; '* and just now
she is dazzled by her new rank : she
has, however, a good heart, the best
of hearts, and by and by she will
return to her old father with more
warmth than ever after this little
estrangement."

Such were the thoughts and hopes

of the father; but an event soon hap-
pened, which proved to him that he
had calculated too much on her af-
fection. In leaving himself wholly
dependent on her, he had yielded to
her earnest solicitations and his own
wishes, and taken up his abode at
her hotel. As his domestics had
lived with him for many years, and
were all as much attached to their
young mistress as to himself, he had
stipulated that they should be retain-
ed ; and they were on their parts de-
lighted to stay. But as his servants
were for use, not show, and those of
his son-in-law more for show than
use, the household of the old man
formed a comparatively small propor-
tion to that of the young pair; and
mutualdissensions and jealousies soon
took place, which shewed themselves
at first in bickerings, and then broke
out into open quarrels, followed by
appeals to the higher powers.

The first affair of this kind was a
violent dispute between Manon, the
nurse of Emily, and Mademoiselle
Louise, the waiting-maid whom she
had hired on her marriage. Manon,
accustomed in right of her office to
treat her mistress with the most un-
ceremonious familiarity, burst in up-
on her at the very moment that she
was engaged in grand consultation
with her hair-dresser, to demand
justice against the saucy jade who
had mimicked her provincial accent,
ridiculed her bonnet montant, and,
worse than all, insisted upon taking
precedence of her at table.

Nurse's complaint might have had
some chance if it had been delivered
in a different style, but it tallied ill
with the dignity of a matron of three
months standing, as Emily then was,
to be thee'd and t/ioud and mon-en-
f anted in that manner; and the artful

A LESSON 1011 FATHERS.

355

reply of Mademoiselle Louise, her
appeals to the fine understanding of
madame la comtesse, the justice of
madame la comtesse, and, above all
the rest, the knowledge of the world
of madame la comtesse, decided the
point in her favour. Nurse was told
that her complaints were frivolous
and unfounded, and that she must
learn to conduct herself better.

" Learn at my age!" cried Manon,
bursting into tears; " and is it thou,
Emily, my child, that canst ask such
a thing ? What, am I a baby to be
taught behaviour? No, no, I am too
old to learn new lessons, even that
of resenting thy unkindness. I will
leave thee." And away she hurried to
Armand, to sob out her complaint,
and her determination to be gone:
a determination which, however, she
relaxed, upon her old master's assur-
ances that he would speedily send
mademoiselle a-packing.

But he soon found that his pow-
er was much more limited than he
thought it. Emily was very sorry ;
nay, she should be grieved to have
dear papa vexed at such nonsense,
but really nurse was in the wrong ;
she was a sad obstinate old woman,
and of no use in life ; and as to part-
ing with Louise upon her account,
the thing was impossible: she had so
much talent, was so useful, nay even
so necessary, that positively there
was no doing without her. Nurse
therefore must go, and indeed it was
better that she should. The pill
was gilded with caresses and fond-
ling expressions, still it was bitter to
swallow and hard of digestion ; and
when Armand saw the poor old wo-
man quit the house, he began for the
first time to think that he had done
a foolish thing in giving, to use the
Lomely but significant words of the

adage, the staff out of his own
hands.

The conviction thus unwillingly
forced upon him became stronger
every day, for from that hour his au-
thority in the house was a mere ci-
pher. His faithful servants were dis-
missed one by one; the hours of meals
changed. When he complained of
the innovation, he was told that his
should be served at what time he
pleased in his apartment; but that
people of fashion could not possibly
eat at such vulgar hours as were
proper for bourgeois.

It seemed very hard to the poor
old man to sit down to table alone,
and he had scarcely time to reconcile
himself to it, when the cook declared
it was impossible to dress two din-
ners; and if his mistress insisted up-
on his doing it, he must absolutely
tender his resignation. Madame
d'Orfeuille could not think of parting
with her cook ; he was a man of such
exquisite talent, that she really did
not know how she should replace
him: if her father therefore could
not dine at the family hours, his man
Antoine might dress his dinner; it
would not give him much trouble,
for there would be no occasion for
more than one dish.

The poor spirit-broken old man,
now fully awakened to all the misery
he had brought upon himself, con-
sented without remonstrance to this
new arrangement. He thought even
that his daughter was, upon reflec-
tion, ashamed of her parsimony, for
his table was well supplied ; but in a
little time accident revealed to him
that the viands were frequently pur-
chased by Antoine out of his own
money. This put the finishing stroke
to Armand's patience: he bitterly
reproached his unnatural daughter,

254

A LESSON TOR FATHERS.

who retorted in a strain of the most
undutiful aerimony; and instead of
acceding to his demand of a certain
sum yearly for his expenses, insisted

from his justice than from her af-
fection."

Poor Armand was mistaken; the
comic listened with perfect sang-

upon his curtailing them still more \\froid to his detail. He was quite

by discharging his faithful Antoine,
now the only one of all his old ser-
vants who remained.

Made up wholly of the milder ele-
ments, Armand would not curse, and
he could not weep, till the tears,
which nature refused to his agoniz-
ing struggles, were called forth by
the attachment of Antoine, who had
overheard what passed; and when
Madame d'Orfeuille flounced indig-
nantly out of her fathers apartment,
he entered, and eagerly grasping the
hand which Armand stretched out
to him, " Yes, my dear master," said
he, " I will go, hut I will not go
alone. Thanks to heaven and your
bounty, I have saved enough in your
service to sit down at my ease for the
rest of my life; and so has Manon
too. Our united savings will provide
for you a neat little apartment, a
comfortable table, and need I say,
good attendance, since we will wait
upon you ourselves. Consent then,
dear master, to our prayers, and you
will soon see yourself in your own
home."

What a mixture of sweet and bit-
ter feelings agitated the poor old
man at this moment ! His heart must
have burst had not a timely flood of
tears relieved him. " I yield, An-
toine," cried he at length, " I yield
to your generous wishes, no longer
my servants but my friends. I will
owe to you and my faithful Manon
the support which my ungrateful
child refuses me: but it must be only
in case I am driven to extremes. I
will speak to the husband of that
woman; I may perhaps gain more

distressed at the misunderstanding
that appeared to have taken place
between M. Armand and the com-
tesse, but unluckily he could do no-
thing: he made a point of never in-
terfering in household affairs; but
he sincerely hoped that the matter
would be accommodated. Nothing
could make him so happy as to see a
good understanding prevail between
two such amiable persons; and as he
finished the last words, he fairly
bowed himself out of the room.

" The die is cast, Antoine," said
Armand, " we must go." — " Heaven
be praised!" replied Antoine in a
joyful tone; and without further de-
lay, he set out in search of an apart-
ment. He soon returned to say, that
he had found one which might suit,
but he refused to take it before his
master had seen and approved it.
Armand accompanied him to look at
it, and as they walked along, a gen-
tleman, of whose features the old
man thought he had some recollec-
tion, looked at him intently in pass-
ing, and then turned back. Armand
did the same, and at the second look
recognised in the stranger his old
friend Franval, whom he had not seen
for twenty years.

When their mutual greetings were
over, he accompanied Franval to his
lodgings, which were just by, and
in answer to his inquiries, told him
frankly all that had happened to him,
and what he proposed doing. " I
do not blame you, my good friend,"
cried Franval, " but you shall not be
reduced to take this step: if we can-
not succeed inbringing your daughter

A LKSSON FOR. FATIIIRS.

255

to reason, you shall come to me. I
am not rich, it is true, but I have
enough for us both, if a plan which
I have in my head fails." — " A plan,
of what kind ?"— " Of a kind to make
you easy for the rest of your days.
Has your daughter ever heard my
name?"—" Often."—" Very well,
what does she know of me?" — " Only
that you are an old friend of mine,
who quitted France many years ago
to engage in commerce in foreign
countries."

" Bravo! We shall have no diffi-
culty in making her believe that you
have lent me a sum of money to
place in my trade, that this money
has prospered in my hands, and that
I now return it to you with interest."
" But for what purpose?" — " For
the purpose of procuring you such
treatment as her father ought to have.
Come, my good friend, drink success
to my plot, and then hasten home
to play your part in it."

It will be easily supposed that Ar-
mand took Antoine into his confi-
dence. They went back together,
and had not been long at home when
a porter, with a chest upon his head,
arrived at the Hotel D'Orfeuille, and
asked for M. Armand. Instead of
apprising the old gentleman, the
lacquey told his mistress, and she
ordered the porter to be shewn to
her. " It is Monsieur Armand I
want, madam," said he; " I have
brought this chest for him." — " It
will be the same thing if you give it
to me." — " Indeed it will not, for I
am to deliver it only to himself; and
besides, I must have his own receipt
for it." Armand, who was then pass-
ing as by accident, hearing his name
mentioned, entered. The porter gave
him a letter and a key, saying, "From

M. Franval, sir. The bags of silver
are all right, but it will be more sa-
tisfactory if you count them, and
give me a receipt if you please, that
I may go and fetch the others." Ar-
mand hastily opened the letter. " Can
I count the money while you read it,
father," asked Madame d'Orfeuille
in her softest, sweetest tone. — " No,"
replied he sternly, and told the por-
ter to carry it to his apartment. His
daughter followed, saw the chest
opened, and several bags well sealed
taken out, the chink of which shewed
very clearly that they were, as the
porter said, full of five-franc pieces.
Armand gave the porter the receipt
he desired, telling him at the same
time to inform his friend, that he
must not send the other chests, be-
cause he was going to remove.

" To remove, my dearest father!"
cried Madame d'Orfeuille the mo-
ment the man was gone; " good
heaven, you cannot seriously have
formed such an idea!" — " It is the
only step I can take after the treat-
ment I have received." — " Ah! dear
father, you will not punish me so
cruelly, and at the moment too in
which I had resolved to do every
thing to gratify you? I have already
given warning to the servant of whom
you had such just cause to complain.
I was even coming to ask you whether
you would wish to have all the old
ones reinstated. I had spoken to M.
d'Orfeuille, to whom you know it
! was owing that the dinner-hour was
changed, and told him, that I had
not been able to make a hearty meal
since I ceased to eat with you; and
he has agreed that the dinner shall
be served at whatever hour you
please. Would you then, dear fa-
ther, make us miserable by leaving

256

THE FROLICSOME DUKE.

us, at the very moment that our
whole study would be to render you
happy ?"

Poor Armand could not have sus-
tained his part any longer in this to
him tragi-comedy but for the arrival
at this moment of his friend Franval,
with whom he ordered his daughter
to leave him alone. She was obliged
to do so, but she took care to inter-
cept M. Franval at his departure,
and to request his mediation with
her father. We may believe that he
readily gave it; and through his ma-
nagement every thing was arranged
for the old man's future comfort. He
had his separate apartments, his two
faithful old servants, for Manon was
recalled, but only to act as the do-
mestic of her old master, and his own
table. " Young people and old ones,"
said Franval to the comtesse, " do
not always agree well together; it
will therefore be best for your father
to have an independent establish-
ment, which of course it will be your
care to support properly."

Madame d'Orfeuille thought all
this was very proper, but she thought

too that it was a great pity her dear
father should lumber his bed-room
with those heavy chests, which could
be so much better and more safely
deposited in her strong closet. " Be-
ware how you touch that point," said
Franval; " for, to my knowledge, the
bare mention of it will create an eter-
nal breach between your father and
you. I do not wish to make reproach-
es, but you have cured him of giving
in his lifetime."

The comtesse took the hint, and
from that day Armand had no cause
to complain. He gradually exchang-
ed the bags of silver for heavy stones,
without the change being suspected.
He died at a very advanced age; and
when Madame d'Orfeuille opened the
uppermost chest, she saw, instead of
the treasure she expected, that it was
filled with stones, on the top of which
lay a paper, with the following words
in her father's writing: " I bequeath
the contents of this chest, and of the
two others, to be used in stoning such
parents as, like myself, bestow in
their lifetime their property upon
their children."

THE FROLICSOME DUKE.

The late Duke of Montague was
remarkable for achievements of wit
and humour, which he conducted
with a dexterity and address pecu-
liar to himself. In one of his ram-
bles, he observed that a middle-aged
man, in something like a military
dress, of which the lace was much
tarnished, and the cloth worn thread-
bare, appeared at a certain hour in
the Park, walking to and fro in the
mall with a kind of mournful solem-
nity, or ruminating by himself on one
of the benches, without taking any
more notice of the gay crowd that

was moving before him, than of so
many emmets on an ant-hill, or atoms
dancing in the sun.

This man the duke singled out as
a fit object for a frolic. He began,
therefore, by making some, inquiry
concerning him, and soon learned
that he was an unfortunate poor crea-
ture, who, having laid out his whole
stock of money in the purchase of a
commission, had behaved with great
bravery in the war, in hopes of pre-
ferment; but upon the conclusion of
the peace had been reduced to starve
upon half-pay. This the duke thought

■fllE FROLICSOME DUKK.

257

a favourable circumstance for his
purpose ; but he learned, upon fur-
ther inquiry, that the captain, hav-
ing a wife and several children, had
been reduced to the necessity of
sending them down into Yorkshire,
whither he constantly transmitted
them one moiety of his half- pay,
which would not subsist them nearer
the metropolis, and reserved the
other moiety to keep himself upon
the spot, where alone he could hope
for an opportunity of obtaining a
more advantageous situation. These
particulars afforded new scope for
the duke's genius, and he immedi-
ately began his operations.

After some time, when every thing
had been prepared, he watched an
opportunity, as the captain was sit-
ting alone, buried in his speculations,
on a bench, to send his gentleman to
him with his compliments and an in-
vitation to dinner the next day. The
duke, having placed himself at a con-
venient distance, saw his messenger
approach without being perceived,
and begin to speak without being
heard; he saw his intended guest
start at length from his reverie, like
a man frighted out of a dream, and
gaze with a foolish look of wonder
and perplexity at the person that ac-
costed him, without seeming to com-
prehend what he said, or to believe
his senses when it was repeated to
him till he did. In short, he saw
with infinite satisfaction all that could
be expected in the looks, behaviour,
and attitude of a man addressed in
so abrupt and unaccountable a man-
ner; and as the sport depended up-
on the man's sensibility, he discovered
so much of that quality on striking
the first stroke, that he promised him-
self success beyond his former hopes.

Vol. HI. No. XVII

He was told, however, that the cap-
tain returned thanks for the honour
intended him, and would wait upon
his grace at the time appointed.

When he came, the duke received
him with particular marks of civility,
and taking him aside with an air of
great secrecy and importance, told
him, that he had desired the favour
of his company to dine, chiefly upon
the account of a lady, who had long
had a particular regard for him, and
had expressed a great desire to be
in his company, which her situation
made it impossible for her to accom-
plish without the assistance of a friend ;
that having learned these particulars
by accident, he had taken the liber-
ty to bring them together ; and add-
ed, that he thought such an act of
civility, whatever might be the opi-
nion of the world, could be no im-
putation upon his honour. During
this discourse, the duke enjoyed the
profound astonishment and various
changes of confusion that appeared
in the captain's face, who, after he
had a little recovered himself, began
a speech with great solemnity, in
which the duke perceived he was la-
bouring to insinuate, in the best man-
ner, that he doubted whether he was
not imposed upon, and whether he
ought not to resent it; and therefore,
to put an end to his difficulties at
once, the duke laid his hand upon
his breast, and very devoutly swore,
that he told him nothing which he
did not believe upon good evidence
to be true.

When word was brought that din-
ner was served, the captain entered
the dining-room with great curiosity
and wonder, but his wonder was un-
speakably increased, when he saw at
the table his own wife and children.

M M

258

TI1K LOITLRKH IN PARIS.

The duke had begun his frolic by
sending for them out of Yorkshire,
and had as much, if not more, asto-
nished the lady than he had her hus-
band, to whom he took care she
should have no opportunity to send
a letter.

It is much more easy to conceive
than to describe a meeting so sudden,
unexpected, and extraordinary: it is
sufficient to say, that it afforded the
highest entertainment to the duke,
who at length with much difficulty got
his guests quietly seated at his table,
and persuaded them to fall to, with-
out thinking either of yesterday or
to-morrow. It happened that soon
after dinner was over, word was
brought to the duke, that his lawyer
attended about some business by his
grace's order. The duke, willing to
have a short truce with the various
inquiries of the captain about his fa-

mily, ordered the lawyer to be intro-
duced, who, pulling out a deed that
the duke was to sign, was directed to
read it, with an apology to the com-
pany for the interruption. The law-
yer accordingly began to read, when,
to complete the adventure, and the
confusion and astonishment of the
poor captain and his wife, the deed
appeared to be a settlement which
the duke had made upon them of a
genteel sufficiency for life. Having
gravely heard the instrument read,
without appealing to take any notice
of the emotion of his guests, he sign-
ed and sealed it, and delivered it in-
to the captain's hand, desiring him to
accept it without compliments: " for,"
said he, " I assure you it is the last
thing I would have done, if I had
thought I could have employed my
money or my time more to my satis-
faction in any other way."

THE LOITERER IN PARIS.

No. VIII.

Paris, Feb.—

My readers will not be surprised
that the Loiterer, like many other
idlers, should have found his way to
that gay capital, where all those who
have nothing to do, or who will not
do any thing, may get rid of their
time and their money more pleasantly
and expeditiously than any where
else. I am not sorry to have an op-
portunity of making some acquaint-
ance with a people, all of whom may
be said to belong more or less to the
class of loiterers; though, from their
quick step, bustling air, and abun-
dance of gesticulation, you would
suppose them to be the busiest peo-
ple on earth.

France was formerly celebrated

for the gay and amiable manners of
its natives, but the upper classes at
least have lost much of the former
and something of the latter quality,
since the government has assumed a
representative form; a form which,
however beneficial it may, and un-
doubtedly must, prove to the mass
of the people, by no means falls in
with the tastes, opinions, and preju-
dices of the upper class. The Roy-
alists, attached to their ancient insti-
tutions, and attributing the Revolu-
tion, to which so many of them have
been victims, to the subversion of
those institutions, abhor a represen-
tative system of government. France,
they say, did very well without it for
fourteen hundred years. " Not very

THE LOITEREU IX PARIS.

2,59

well," said I to the Marquis Bonne-
foi: " witness your civil wars, the ex-
cesses of your nobility, and the ty-
ranny of your kings." — " Tyranny !"
cried the marquis; " never was na-
tion better governed. What was our
Louis, worthy to be called St. Louis,
who himself administered justice to
the meanest of his subjects, a tyrant?
Were the good Louis XII. the mag-
nanimous Henry IV. and many other
of our monarchs, tyrants?"—" That
only proves," said I, " that they did
not abuse their power; but it does
not shew the wisdom of intrusting
them with it. Look at your cruel
LouisXI. your detestable Charles IX.

your ." The marquis cut short

my list, by turning upon his heel with
a hasty bon jour, and walked off,
fully persuaded that I was little bet-
ter than a Jacobin at heart.

The present system is not much
more liked by the Jacobins; they
find a thousand faults with it: but I
believe the greatest is, its being mo-
delled in some degree after the Eng-
lish constitution; and that the great
laation should be governed by a code
of laws, some of which are copied
from the institutions of a little island
of shopkeepers, is a bitter and indi-
gestible pill to their vanity. The li-
cence of the press is a standing sub-
ject of complaint with the Royalists,
and the restrictions placed upon it
a?re equally bemoaned by the Libe-
rals: yet with that inconsistency,
so eminently characteristic of the
nation, each party is at times willing
to submit to the evil it complains
of, when it has the effect of vexing
or harassing its antagonists. The
other day a pastoral letter of the
Archbishop of Toulouse was sup-
pressed, to the great joy of the Li-

berals, one of whom favoured me
with a long tirade against priests of
all religions, those extinguishers, aS
he called them, of the light of rea-
son. " Not one of them," said he,
" ought ever to be permitted to pub-
lish any thing." — " You are flying
in the teeth of your own principles,"
cried I : " under a free government
no man ought to be prevented from
publishing. In England indeed,
where we are not so liberal as you
profess to be, we prosecute for blas-
phemy and sedition; but even iri
those cases no man is condemned
unheard." — " Pshaw '."cried he, "you
methodical islanders constantly clog
the wheels of your political machine
by preferring what you call the right
to the expedient. The fact is, that
in certain cases, such as this, we must'
deviate a little from the straight path.
This bigoted old man wanted to
plunge us again into the darkness of
the 12th century, and therefore his
book ought to be suppressed : so for
once the minister has done a good
thing."

He had hardly finished his speech,
when a Royalist, who had in the morn-
ing been complaining bitterly to me
of the suppression of the archbi-
shop's letter, entered, to tell us that a
novel by a celebrated Jacobin writer
had just shared the same fate: at
which he expressed himself highly
delighted ; not so much, I believe,
because it actually was a blasphe-
mous and seditious production, a&
\{ because it was written by a Jacobin.
! This intelligence changed in a mo-
j mentthe current of my liberal friend's
; ideas; all his animosity against the
minister revived, and he anathema-
! tized the idea of restricting the press,
I totally forgetting the proof he had
. M m '2

260

TUB LOlTElllill IN l'AIUS.

just given, that he wished its liberty,
like the Irishman's reciprocity, to be
all on one side.

But my readers will naturally say,
are all the upper class Royalists or
Liberals? are there no Moderates?
I have heard indeed that there are,
but I fancy they are like mermaids,
and other extraordinary productions
of nature, that every body has heard
of, but nobody has seen.

The political fever has been par-
ticularly violent during the last six
months, and in consequence of the
elections, it is now at its height. Go
where you will, you hear of nothing-
else; pleasure, business, nay even
love, the grand business of a French-
man's life, gives way to the spirit of
electioneering. My readers may fan-
cy that they have seen this spirit at
its height in England; but they are
mistaken : honest John Bull, in the
midst of the unbounded licence which
he gives to his tongue on such an oc-
casion, has no malice in his heart.
All his anger against the candidate
whom he does not favour evaporates
in words ; and while he openly de-
clares that he wishes him and all his
adherents at the devil, he would never
think of lending a hand to send him
thither. Here the contrary is the
case ; they abuse one another much
more politely, but then they hate with
tenfold bitterness. In England they
reveal at these times all the private
and political sins of a man's life ; but
in France they go farther, for they
publish all the peccadillos of every
one of his family for three genera-
tions at least; and in the midst of
this war of words, they congratulate
themselves on managing matters with
much more delicacy than the Eng-
lish : for they tell you gravely, that
it is no unfrequent thing to see the

two candidates belabour each other
on the hustings, to the great delight
of the electors, who often give their
votes to the best boxer of the two.

And the ladies, methinks I hear
the reader say, what part do they
take on this occasion? A very active
part; not indeed as our British fair
formerly did, giving gold and kisses
to the honest freeholders. No, no,
this would be too straight-forward a
way for the intriguing spirit of a
Frenchwoman; she must employ her
genius in a more tortuous direction,
by influencing somebody, who is to
gain over somebody else, and this
second somebody is to work upon a
third, to interest a fourth, to persuade
a fifth to give his vote as madame
directs.

As I have naturally an avei'sion
to trouble, I cannot look without an
eye of commiseration on the fatigue
which a Parisian belle goes through
at this moment for the good of her
party. Her drawing-room is con-
verted into a political theatre, where
she acts a most important part ; for
as the country gentlemen now in
Paris will set out in a few days for
their several departments, no means
are left untried by the fair Royalist
or Liberal to animate the zeal of her
friends, and to increase their num-
bers. She calls in every art of beau-
ty, dress, and persuasion to make
proselytes, and devotes herself to
this task with a degree of patience
and perseverance which one could
not have expected from her naturally
fickle and impatient temper.

The Royalists are looking forward
to a complete triumph, because the
greatest part of the common people
are with them; not so much perhaps
through principle, as from a desire
to perpetuate the benefits they enjoy

THE LOITERER IN PA1US.

26i

under the present system, and which
they think would be endangered by
a change in the government. Keep
well when you are well, is a maxim,
the truth of which the lower class
seem to be sufficiently impressed
with. The liberty and equality ma-
nia has long since passed away ; and
the remembrance of Buonaparte's
tyranny makes them look with great
veneration upon the charte; though
perhaps not one in a hundred of
them have any distinct notion of
what the charte is. They are now
in a more than ordinary good -hu-
mour, because they have lately had
several fetes, and a fete, as every
body knows, is meat, drink, and
clothes to a Frenchman ; particularly
when he is told, that it is given to
celebrate la gloire nationale. But
these festivities, so delightful to the
lower class, occasioned much whim-
sical distress to the higher orders:
the Royalists indeed danced, sang,
and drank healths to the tune of the
Trocadero with all their hearts and
souls; but the poor Liberals were
overwhelmed with chagrin; their feel-
ings were a strange compound of vex-
ation, for the defeat of their friends,
the Constitutionalists, and pleasure
at the success of the French arms,
of which they appear as proud as if
the victory had been gained by the
most desperate efforts of valour. —
"i Every body must own," said a Li-
beral to me, " that Frenchmen know
how to fight." — " It is lucky, how-
ever, for their reputation," cried I,
" that this is not the first time their
courage has been tried." — " Ah !
yes," replied he, unmindful of my
inuendo, " all the world must do
justice to our valour: but how shame-

ful to prostitute it in so bad a cause !"
Bad as he thought the cause, how-
ever, he hastened, like others, to the
Hotel de Ville, to celebrate la gloire
nationale. But why, the reader will
say, should the Liberals celebrate an
event which they deplore? For a very
obvious reason: there is nothing a
Frenchman changes so often as his
party ; he must therefore, even in the
wildest transports of his zeal, take
care not entirely to shut the door to
a reconciliation with the one he is
opposed to ; and to stay away from a
fete, given to celebrate la gloire na-
tionale, would be a sin that never
could be forgiven. The distress of
the ladies was even greater than
that of the men, since they had the
mortification of being unable to ap-
pear in the newest colours or head-
dresses ; for no Jacobin beauty could
be seen in the co'effurc a IJEspagnole,
or in Trocadero or Spanish brown;
even white was in some degree inter-
dicted to the most staunch of the
Ultra-Liberals, from its being the
hue of the lily. These may appear
trifling mortifications to an English-
woman, but they are very serious
ones to a French belle. " How hap-
py the Duchess of Angouleme must
feel!" said an English friend of mine
to a French lady, who was speaking
to her about the ball at the Hotel de
Ville. — "Ah, heavens! yes! she will
go in white, which is the colour that
becomes her the most; and the trim-
ming of her dress will be looped
with diamonds." — " And the plea-
sure of seeing her husband restored
to her safe and successful !" — " I for-
got that," replied the Frenchwoman
with great sang froid; " 'tis an ad-
dition, certainly."

2(ii

DESCRIPTION OF THE SLOCIID ALTIUMAN, OR THE

NURSING CAVE,

Commonly called the SPAR CAVE of the Isle of Sky.

The Gaelic name of this wonder-
ful production of nature is said to
have arisen from the circumstance of
a beautiful lady, daughter to Mac-
lean of Coll, having nursed her first-
born, the heir of Collonsay, in that
deep recess. Tins legend shall be
submitted to our fair readers at a fu-
ture period. We are now to de-
scribe the finest grotto in the known
world, except the grotto of Antipa-
ros, an island of the Mediterranean
sea. Tradition preserved many mar-
vellous stories concerning a cave of
immeasurable profundity, situated on
the south-west shore of the Isle of
Sky: but a variety of ouarskals had
invested the place with a supersti-
tious awe; and within the memory of
man, no person had attempted to in-
vade the precincts, until a southern
lady, Mrs. Gillespie, prevailed with,
some young men to accompany her
thither.

The land rises above the cavity of
Slochd Altriman; but exhibits no
beetling cliff's nor precipitous declivi-
ties : yet Nature has girt the entrance
with battlements of her own invinci-
ble workmanship; for the shore in
early ages consisted entirely of per-
pendicular rock, accessible only from
the sea. In the lapse of time an ac-
cumulation of sand and marine plants
has formed at one spot a narrow
path, by which, at low water, the
cave may be approached with some
difficulty. Some very old people re-
member when this tract was no more
than rugged rocks covered with sea-
weed. The easiest access is by boat,
when the tide is up, and then the
waves flow four hundred feet within
the cave.

The fury of the water is restrained
by two grand inclosures of free-stone,
about oO feet asunder, and rising per-
pendicularly to the height of lOOfeet.
Within this entrance the visitor is
presented with a magnificent, though
rude Gothic arch, leading to the inte-
rior cave, which is embellished with
darkgreen stalactites of various sizes,
hung round in superb profusion, some
descending to the floor, and forming
pillars overgrown with moss, and re-
lieved by a fine intermixture of wild
flowers, vivid green foliage, and
brown heath.

Near the entrance of this grotto,
a spring of pellucid water exudes
from a rock into a basin of variegat-
ed marble, surrounded by fantastic
pillars. A passage, about 9 feet in
breadth and nearly 20 in height, con-
ducts the visitor on a smooth level,
about eighteen yards, to a steep as-
cent, extending 50 feet over broken
whinstone, mingled with earth and
sand, surmounted by another accli-
vity, sparkling with crystallizations
like frozen snow. A few yards be-
yond this, the portico of the princi-
pal grotto appears. It is 8 feet wide,
12 in height, and variously decorated
with incrustations, white as the pur-
est alabaster. The finest spar hangs
from the roof in elegant draperies,
like the festoons of a curtain, and all
white as snow.

As the traveller advances, the en-
trance expands to 10 feet in breadth
and 40 feet in height; and after cross-
ing 35 feet of the gallery, still adorn-
ed by incrusted marble, a circular
vacuity, 20 feet in diameter, fills the
mind with astonishment and admira-
tion. The lofty vaulted roof, richly

DESCRIPTION OF THE SPAR CAVE IN THE ISLE OF SKY.

263

ornamented with sparry concretions
in every variety of form, is reflected
from innumerable brilliant points, by
a pond of clear water in a marble
cistern, which occupies the centre of
the grotto, and receives new splen-
dour from the torches carried by the
guides. Here the most luxuriating
imagination will find ample scope in
recording the traditions concerning
fays and water -sprites, with which
the Gael have peopled this scene of
wonders: or we may compare the
calcareous depositions to an infini-
tude of animals, plants, or works of
art; and many of these la si nahtrcc
bear such a striking resemblance to
the productions of statuary, that
strangers generally liken them to
some creations of the chisel; in par-
ticular, the figure of a monk, bare-
headed, and kneeling upon a cushion,
with the drapery of his robe in grace-
ful folds; several busts, numberless
pilasters supported by distorted fi-
gures, and in one place, a large fleece
of spotless wool, of the finest quality,
spread by the talons of dragons and
griffins.

, Having wearied the senses by con-
templating the grotto, we proceed by
a rugged declivity to the margin of
the pool, or, as the natives call it, the
lochan of water -sprites. There, if
we glance upwards, the roof appears
a white cloud, penetrated in some
parts by streaks of light, and floating
softly in the air. If we look on the
'pool, myriads of rays are reflected
on its tranquil bosom from the glit-
tering spar by which it is encom-
passed. The pool must be crossed
on a plank to reach a gallery of im-
mense height, but only three feet
wide, which leads to other passages
yet unexplored. The entrance pre-
sents two large columns of pure spar:
that on the left would challenge ad-

miration, if its opposite was not so
transcendent in regular beauty, as to
seem a work of art, directed with
the most exquisite taste. The shaft,
20 feet in length, is nearly cylindri-
cal, and its general thickness about
two feet and a half. It stands upon
a circular base, rising from the floor,
and projecting about 12 inches round
its circumference. On minute in-
spection, we conclude the column
has been constituted by a series of
sections, each 22 inches in length,
and in two distinct portions ; the up-
per being a crystallized mass of sta-
lactites, while the lower part may be
compared to foliated carvings, as a
Corinthian or Composite capital in-
verted. The formation and insertion
of foliage in the sparry concretion
displays the most exact construction;
and the interstices of the leaves per-
mit, at spaces nearly regular, an in-
spection of the hollow interior, which
is enriched by a similar combination
of foliated incrustations. After pass-
ing these pillars the gallery enlarges ;
the sides, illuminated by elegant crys-
tals, in countless diversity, emitting-
a lustre dazzling to the most steady
eye. The floor is of white marble,
in some parts level, with a most per-
fect polish ; in others, raised in broad
stripes resembling lace; in others,
strewed with sparkling crystalliza-
tions, and all the interstices filled
with pure water.

It is not in the power of words to
convey an adequate idea of the im-
pression made on a beholder by this
succession of brilliant and beautiful
scenes. The late lamented Lord
Kinedder, a gentleman of refined
taste, was so affected, that he could
not refrain from tears of admiring
emotion. Indeed, all who have vi-
sited the Spar Cave are transported
by enthusiastic delight.

264

MADALENA, OR THE CONSEQUENCES OF ELOPEMENT.

(Concluded from p. 197.)

The voices which had produced
so powerful an effect on Mrs. Gil-
man, proceeded from two officers
and a few seamen talking, as they
followed the light which brought them
to our heroine. Lieutenant Owen
soon recognised the features of his
aunt, Mrs. Wortesly, and raised the
corpse to a bed, which it seemed she
was attempting to reach when seized
by the last pangs. The other officer
laid Mrs. Gilman on the opposite
bed. He was amazed to see this de-
licate female — lovely even in the sem-
blance of death — with her feet and
vestments bathed in blood. Lieu-
tenant Owen was engaged about his
lamented aunt, and the other gentle-
man chafed the cold hands of his fair
charge ; but at the reappearance of
the seamen, who were sent to rouse
the supposed occupants of the house,
horror supplanted all other consider-
ations. The British tars, with cha-
racteristic indignation, execrated the
savages, whom any provocation could
tempt to imbrue their hands in the
blood of unarmed and wounded men.

Mr. Owen turned from the re-
mains of his aunt at this detail of in-
humanity. He and his companion
now understood why the surgical ap-
paratus was so carelessly displayed.
The building had been employed by
the French as an hospital, and in re-
venge for the ravages of their coun-
trymen, the Portuguese peasantry
had butchered the defenceless pa-
tients. In plundering the premises,
they were interrupted by the noise
made in passing the house, which
lay in the route, by the soldiers who
had left the frigate.

The gentleman who stood beside
Mrs. Gilman had escaped from the
frigate on a hen-coop; they had no-
thing to give her as a cordial, but
they sent the sailors to seek for hou-
ses where refreshments could be pur-
chased at any price. They spoke of
the dismal catastrophe a few hours
had produced, and of their own al-
most miraculous deliverance. They
exceedingly regretted, that complai-
sance to Colonel Gilman had led
them to exceed their customary mo-
deration in respect to wine. They
had fallen asleep leaning on a table,
when screams awoke them ; and Mr.
Owen related some of the stories in
circulation concei'ning Louisa Jervas
and Colonel Gilman, adding, he was
almost certain the young lady before
them was Mrs. Gilman, the much-
valued friend of his departed aunt.

" You know I only joined the re-
giment just as you were embarking,"
replied the gentleman : " I have
heard much good of Mrs. Gilman,
but never saw her."

" I observed you speaking to the
wretched Louisa a moment before
she threw herself overboard."

" I wished her to accept the aid
which every man of common huma-
nity would render to a female in
cases of emergency, but she pushed
me away, and plunged into the waves."

Some wine, bread, and fruits were
brought from the nearest habitations.
The recollection of the patient was
restored. She comprehended all
that was said, but could not move
or open her eyes — a state not Unu-
sual with a person labouring under
exhaustion — and Mrs. Gilman did

MADALENA.

26."

not wish to speak, while making up
her mind how to act regarding strang-
ers, whose voices and conversation
assured her that not one among them
was of her own sex. Mr. Owen ad-
dressed his companion as my lord,
and to Mrs. Gilman how unspeakable
was the comfort when he added,
" Lord Dudley !" She had often lis-
tened with pleasure to Lady Jemima
Melbourne's high praises of her fa-
vourite cousin, this young and ami-
able nobleman. Her feelings were
composed by the certainty of his ho-
nourable protection; and worn out
by grief, agitation, anxiety, and fa-
tigue, sleep suspended her cares.
Lord Dudley meanwhile dispatched
messengers to procure clothing, bed-
ding, and every necessary for the
eomfort of the resuscitated patient,
and hired Portuguese female ser-
vants at enormous wages to attend
her.

Independently of the impression
which beauty had made upon his
lordship, he was powerfully attracted
to Mrs. Gilman by their mutual
friendship for Lady Jemima Mel-
bourne and the good countess, from
whom, as well as from Lady Susan
Berlington, he had brought letters
of recommendation to her, but they
had shared the fate of the frigate.
That melancholy event, however,
had furnished them with points of
contact which led to a more intimate
acquaintance in the space of twenty-
four hours than could perhaps other-
wise have taken place in many years.

By means of an order on a banker
at Lisbon a priest was prevailed upon
to collect some of the neighbouring
peasantry, and to inhume the mangled
bodies of the slaughtered French;
for till this office was performed, the

Vol. III. No. XVII.

domestics whom Lord Dudley had
hired for the service of Mrs. Gilman
refused to enter upon their office.
The same priest also undertook to
procure a vessel to convey the sur-
vivors from the wreck of the frigate
to the British head-quarters.

As soon as the corpses were re-
moved, the Portuguese women ar-
rived with apparel for the lady, who
was deeply affected by the attentions
of Lord Dudley. If his lordship
admired her, pale, motionless, and
with dishevelled hair and disordered
garments, how charming must she
have appeared to him, when the ten-
der loveliness of her figure, and her
mild and graceful dignity of man-
ners, adorned the elegant mourning
habiliments ! As it had been found
impossible to prepare the ship for
sailing that night, suitable beds and
bedding were provided for Mrs. Gil-
man and her attendants; while a par-
ty of sailors, furnished with plenty
of clean straw, engaged to take watch
and watch in the passage leading to
her chamber: for the sanguinary
acts perpetrated by the Portuguese
within those very walls had filled her
with such apprehension, that she
could not have composed herself to
rest without such a protection.

The master of their vessel sent
betimes to call them up: the breeze,
though light, was favourable. Lord
Dudley was much concerned that no
vehicle could be had to transport
Mrs. Gilman to the quay, but her
countrymen would be happy to carry
her, and a litter borne by them wait-
ed at the door. Our heroine's la-
cerated feet made this conveyance ac-
ceptable; she declared that she would
pay the bearers very thankfully, be-
ing resolved to incur no pecuniary

N N

266

MADAtF.NA.

obligation to her assiduous friends.
The port was distant about three
miles, and on the way thither, Mrs.
Oilman, with a pious reference to
the " Great First Cause," admired
the sublime rising of the sun over a
landscape ascending with awful gran-
deur in towering cliffs, and gradually
declining to grassy hills, or suddenly
sweeping into valleys clothed with
flowery pastures, or rich masses of
foliage vivid with glittering dewdrops ;
while the vine-dresser's industrious
activity and cheerful song gave ani-
mation to the scene.

Mrs. Gilman was agreeably sur-
prised to find the accommodation for
the voyage so much better than she
expected; but her female attendants
told her the tall young Senor had
employed people to scour and per-
fume the cabin and state-rooms in a
way unheard-of at their port. The
British took the lead in these ope-
rations, and the Portuguese made
them welcome to the labour, since
they had a fancy for it.

The weather proved delightful;
calm unclouded sunshine threw a
dazzling effulgence over the gentle
waves, sparkling as they rippled
around the ship. Lord Dudley in
secret blessed the dying gales, as
they hardly curled the bright surface
of ocean, and prolonged an inter-
course unfettered by the cold eti-
quette of society, yet regulated by
all the decorums of scrupulous deli-
cacy. Mrs. Gilman relied on Mr.
Owen almost as a brother, and Lord
Dudley was the favourite cousin of
Lady Jemima Melbourne; for this
prepossession was the cause assigned
by the young widow for the pleasure
she felt in his lordship's attentions.
He had informed Mrs. Gilman that
the following month Lady Jemima

would be married to the object of
her fondest preference; and she al-
most asked herself, Could Lady Je-
mima prefer any man to Lord Dud-
ley?

An awning which protected the
voyagers from the intense noonday
heats allowed them to pass great
part of the day on deck, and the
golden radiance of the sun, with the
azure of the skies, reflected on the
tranquil bosom of the deep, attracted
the eye, while Lord Dudley and Mr.
Owen, with their flutes and clario-
nets, sent the sweet melody of gaiety
and hope over the undulating waters.
When their vessel was going up the
Tagus, Lord Dudley asked Mrs.
Gilman if she had many female ac-
quaintances in Lisbon; and with a
starting tear she replied, that her
acquaintance there Mas limited to
the officers of the regiment. " Then
allow me," said he, " to offer an in-
troduction to my sister, Lady Anne
Sackville. She has been more than
two years at Lisbon, on account of
her youngest daughter's health." His
lordship sent a note to Lady Anne
by the first boat that went to the
quay, and her ladyship came with
her carriage to receive Mrs. Gilman.

His lordship spent at his sister's
house all the time he could spare
from his military duties; though, for
some time, he seldom saw the object
he chiefly desired te meet. Mrs.
Gilman's health suffered much by
the shipwreck and by earlier causes ;
besides, though she could not la-
ment Colonel Gilman with impas-
sioned sorrow and tender esteem,
and was too ingenuous to assume the
appearance of sentiments incompa-
tible with the wrongs she had en-
dured, she strictly observed the pro-
prieties of her situation. The many

MA DA LENA.

267

services she owed to Lord Dudley
gave him a right to be admitted when
her recovery allowed her to join the
family circle at Lady Anne Sack-
ville's, and to his lordship her pre-
sence diffused ambrosial sweets of
the purest enchantment ; but he had
much to do and to suffer before the
time arrived when he might profess
himself a lover.

The state of the country made it
unsafe for ladies to remain as so-
journers in Portugal. Lady Anne
Saekville returned to England, and
Mrs. Gilman remained under her pro-
tection. She had no wish for a re-
sidence of her own, and Lady Mel-
bourne was in the north of England
with her lately married daughter,
Lady Jemima Seymour, when the
young widow arrived in England.
Perhaps too the -opportunity of hear-
ing the earliest accounts of Lord
Dudley inclined her to accept Lady
Anne Sackville's invitation.

Lord Dudley returned a mutilated
hero. He lost a limb at the battle
of Salamanca; but in gaining Mada-
lena all his disasters were overba-
lanced. Her fortune was now at her
own disposal, but she paid the re-
spect justly due to her guardian, Mr.
Jessop, in consulting him before she
consented to a second marriage. The
well-informed, independent-spirited
citizen, who considered title without
individual merit as a bauble, gave
his entire approbation to the second
choice of his ward, and no obstacle
remained but Lord Dudley's invalid
state. When his lordship came home
in helpless debility, Lady Anne Saek-
ville offered him her house and at-
tendance; and to be under the same
roof with Madalena would have dis-
posed his lordship to become the in-
mate of a less agreeable abode.

Lady Anne Saekville said one day
to Mrs. Gilman, " I wish, my dear,
you would partake with me in the
charge of a patient, who calls me by
your name oftener than my own; a
sure proof that he thinks more of
you than of his sick-nurse."

With all her soul rising to her
eyes, Mrs. Gilman responded, " Must
I solicit for the office?"

" You have consented to bless my
brother when he is perfectly reco-
vered, and the lawyers have made
their technical arrangements for a
perpetual interjunction of your re-
spective affairs; but Dudley should
not be so ungenerous as to solicit
your fair hand until he can make a
fashionable excursion after the cere-
mony," said Lady Anne Saekville.

" Would it be ungenerous to grant
me the rights of a sick-nurse, if 1
have a fancy for the office ?" replied
Mrs. Gilman, blushing deeply, and
hurrying from the breakfast-parlour.

Lady Anne soon rehearsed this
dialogue to her brother. A special
licence and the sacred ceremony of
marriage gave Madalena free ingress
to the chamber where Lord Dudley
wa6 confined to a sofa; and Lady
Dudley learned, by blessed expe-
rience, how far superior to external
advantages of figure are the attach-
ing qualities that create and sustain
domestic endearments. In Lord Dud-
ley the vigour and energy of high in-
tellectual endowments were exalted
by moral worth. His natural capa-
city was brilliant, and cultivated by
the most liberal and assiduous edu-
cation ; yet the deficiency in mental
attainments he discovered in his Ma-
dalena only constituted a source of
tenderness to both. With the sliding
easy grace which marked all his ac-
tions, Lord Dudley descended to
N u %

263

SOME PARTICULARS OF LUDW1G VON BEETHOVEN.

the level of her understanding, and
he gradually approximated her ideas
to his own elevated sphere. The in-
struction his lordship almost imper-
ceptibly communicated, gave Lady
Dudley new powers of entertainment
for himself and of edification for her
children.

Fully sensible of those benefits,
her ladyship took occasion to warn
her young friends, that they must not
expect perfectly to assimilate with a
man of sense and talent, without some
qualifications as an intellectual com-
panion ; and she acknowledged, that

till Lord Dudley led her to seek
amusement in solid reading, she knew
not the hidden treasures of self-en-
joyment; and Lord Dudley found
continual and varied delights in ex-
panding the faculties of his lovely,
docile, and gifted pupil. His lord-
ship possessed in her a companion
capable of exercising without fatigu-
ing his mind; and her wisdom, her
prudence, her rectitude of principle,
her amiable temper and devoted af-
fection, adorned her with unfading
charms.

B. G.

SOME PARTICULARS OF LUDWIG VON BEETHOVEN,

THE CELEBRATED MUSICAL COMPOSER.

Beethoven is one of those ge-
niuses of whom not only Germany
and Vienna, but also Europe and
his age, have just reason to be proud.
He forms with Mozart and Haydn
the unrivalled triumvirate of modern
music. In this country his talents
are so well known, and so highly ap-
preciated, that we are confident the
following particulars, though scanty,
concerning him, will prove accept-
able, especially to our musical read-
ers.

Beethoven's life furnishes but slen-
der materials for the biographer.
Wholly occupied by his own science,
he is but little affected by what is
passing in the world. It is late at
night before he quits his desk, and
the early dawn summons him to it
again. Indefatigably active, he can-
not bear to be urged ; as it is not
task-work, but the free effusions of
his genius, that he would give to the
world. He cultivates his art as a
divine gift, not as a medium of ac-
quiring fame or wealth. At the first
representation of his Fidelio the

overture belonging to it could not be
executed, and it was found necessary
to substitute another of his compo-
sitions in its stead. " The people
applauded," said he, on this occa-
sion, " but I stood overcome with
shame: it did not correspond with
the rest." He is incapable of dis-
simulation. Whoever asks his opi-
nion of compositions is sure to learn
his real sentiments; that is to say,
if he deigns to express them at all.
Connections which run counter to his
blunt integrity, and his elevated no-
tions of honour, he breaks off with-
out hesitation: in short, he is one
who not only will not do what is dis-
honourable himself, but, which is
very rare at the present day, he will
not tolerate it in others. He has at
command a rich vein of humour, and
launches the keenest sarcasms against
whatever provokes his contempt.
Deafness is unfortunately a great im-
pediment to conversation with him ;
but art, science, and nature make
him amends for this defect. For the
latter, in particular, he manifests ex-

SOME PARTICULARS OF LUDWIO VON BEETHOVEN.

260

traordinary fondness. Even in the
worst weather in winter he seldom
spends a whole day in the house ;
and in summer, when he is in the
country, he is generally before sun-
rise in the garden. No wonder then
that his compositions partake of the
beauties displayed by the exquisite
works of nature. The moments spent
in the contemplation of them are
those in which we approach nearer
to the mighty Spirit that created and
sustains the universe, than at any
other time.

Scarcely a day passes but Beet-
hoven is receiving from all parts of
Europe, nay even from America,
tributes of homage to his extraor-
dinary talent. On occasion of the
transferral of his residence from the
country to Vienna in 1822, he had,
to his extreme regret, the misfortune
to lose all his correspondence, either
through the negligence or the disho-
nesty of the person whom he em-
ployed to remove his effects.

One evening, he was at supper in
a tavern when the waiter chanced to
mention his name. It caught the at-
tention of an English naval captain,
who went up to him, and testified
the extreme joy he felt at seeing the
man to whose exquisite symphonies
he had listened with rapture even in
the East Indies. The pure unaf-
fected demonstrations of respect paid
to him by our countryman gratified
Beethoven exceedingly; but he does
not like strangers to call to see him,
for his time is too precious.

Next to his art he is attached with
his whole soul to his nephew, Charles,
an orphan, to whom he supplies the
place of a father in the fullest sense
of the word. He has also a brother
living in Vienna, who follows the pro-
fession of an apothecary.

Beethoven's person bespeaks
strength and energy. His head re-
minds the spectator of Ossian's "grey-
haired bards of Ullin." His motions
are quick : he has a particular aver-
sion to what is dull and slow. His
table is plentiful but simple, and he
is very fond of venison, which he
considers as the most wholesome diet.
He drinks wine in moderation, usu-
ally the red Austrian; the Hungarian
wine does not agree with him. In
winter, when he resides in Vienna,
he likes to go, before his usual walk
after dinner, to a coffee-house, to
look at the newspapers, and smoke
his pipe over a cup of coffee. As
he is accustomed to work till late at

l night, and to rise very early, it is
not uncommon for him to take a nap
of about an hour after his walk.
Beethoven is liable to rheumatic

| complaints, to which he ascribes the
loss of hearing. It is truly astonish-
ing, that though deprived of the sense
through which he operates so pow-
erfully on the minds of others, yet

; when he sits down to his instrument,
and resigns himself to the inspira-
tions of liis fancy, he will express
even the softest piano.

He enjoys a pension from the
Austrian court, and though it is by
no means adequate to his wants, still
he refused very advantageous offers
made to him by the imperial ruler of
France.

He has lately finished a Mass,
which he is publishing by subscrip-
tion. A symphony, a quartett, a
scriptural oratorio, transmitted to
him in the English language through
the American consul from the Unit-
ed States, and perhaps also an opera
(entitled Dichtung, " Poetry," by
Grillparzer), are expected from his
pen.

270

MARTHA THE GIPSY.

(From " Sayings and Doings," attributed to Mr. Theodore Hook.)

In the vicinity of Bedford-square
lived a respectable and honest man,
whose name the reader will be pleased
to consider Harding. He had married
early: his wife was an exemplary wo-
man ; and his son and daughter were
grown into that companionable age,
at which children repay with their
society and accomplishments the
tender cares which parents bestow
upon their offspring in their early in-
fancy.

Mr. Harding held a responsible
and respectable situation under the
government, in an office in Somerset-
House. His income was adequate to
all his wants and wishes: his family
\vras a family of love; and perhaps,
taking into consideration the limited
desires of what may be fairly called
middling life, no man was ever more
contented or better satisfied with his
lot than he.

Maria Harding, his daughter, was
a modest, unassuming, and interest-
ing girl, full of feeling and gentle-
ness. She was timid and retiring;
but the modesty which east down her
fine black eyes could not veil the in-
tellect which beamed in them. Her
health was by no means strong; and
the paleness of her cheek — too fre-
quently, alas! lighted by the hectic
flush of our indigenous complaint —
gave a deep interest to her counte-
nance. She was watehed and reared
by her tender mother with all the
care and attention which a being so
delicate and so ill suited to the pe-
rils and troubles of this world de-
manded.

George, her brother, was a bold
and intelligent lad, full of rude health
and fearless independence. His cha-

racter was frequently the subject of
his father's contemplation; and he
saw in his disposition, his mind, his
pursuits and propensities, the pro-
mise of future success in active life.

With these children, possessing as
they did the most enviable charac-
teristics of their respective sexes, Mr.
and Mrs. Harding, with thankfulness
to Providence, acknowledged their
happiness and their perfect satisfac-
tion with the portion assigned to them
in this transitory world.

Maria was about nineteen, and had,
as was natural, attracted the regards,
and thence gradually chained the af-
fections, of a distant relative, whose
ample fortune, added to his personal
and mental good qualities, rendered
him a most acceptable suitor to her
parents, which Maria's heart silently
acknowledged he would have been to
her, had he been poor and penny-
less.

The father of this intended hus-
band of Maria was a man of import-
ance, possessing much personal in-
terest, through which George, the
brother of his intended daughter-in-
law, was to be placed in that diplo-
matic seminary in Downing-street,
whence, in due time, he was to rise
through all the grades of office (which,
with his peculiar talents, his friends,
and especially his mother, was con-
vinced he would so ably fill), and at
last turn out an ambassador.

The parents, however, of young
Langdale and of Maria Harding were
agreed, that there was no necessity
for hastening the alliance between
their families, seeing that the united
ages of the couple did not exceed
thirty-nine years ; and seeing, more-

MARTHA THF. GIPSY,

271

over, that the elder Mr. Langdale,
for private reasons of his own, wished
his son to attain to the age of twen-
ty-one before he married ; and seeing,
moreover still, that Mrs. Langdale,
who was little more than six and thir-
ty years of age herself, had reasons,
which she also meant to be private,
for seeking to delay as much as pos-
sible a ceremony, the result of which,
in all probability, would confer upon
her, somewhat too early in life to be
agreeable to a lady of her habits and
propensities, the formidable title of
grandmamma.

How curious it is, when one takes
up a little bit of society (as a geolo-
gist crumbles and twists a bit of earth
in his hand to ascertain its character
and quality), to look into the motives
and manceuvrings of all the persons
connected with it; the various work-
ings, the indefatigable labours, which
all their little minds are undergoing
to bring about divers and sundry
little points, perfectly unnconnected
with the great end in view ; but which,
for private and hidden objects, each
of them is toiling to carry. Nobody
but those who really knew Mrs.
Langdale understood why she so
readily acquiesced in the desire of
her husband to postpone the marri-
age for another twelvemonth. A
stranger would have seen only the
dutiful wife according with the sen-
sible husband; but I knew her, and
knew that there must be more than
met the eye or the ear in that sym-
pathy of feeling between her and
Mr. Langdale, which was not upon
ordinary occasions so evidently dis-
played.

Like the waterman who pulls one
wray and looks another, Mrs. Lang-
dale aided the entreaties and second-
ed the commands of her loving

spouse, touching the seasonable de-
lay of which I am speaking; and it
was agreed, that immediately after
the coming of age of Frederick Lang-
dale, and not before, he was to lead
to the hymeneal altar the delicate
and timid Maria Harding.

The affair got whispered about:
George's fortune in life was highly
extolled; Maria's excessive happi-
ness prophesied by every body of her
acquaintance ; and already had sun-
dry younger ladies, daughters and
nieces of those who discussed these
matters in divan after dinner, begun
to look upon poor Miss Harding- with
envy and maliciousness, and wonder
what Mr. Frederick Langdale could
see in her : she was proclaimed to be
insipid, inanimate, shy, bashful, and
awkward; nay, some went so far as
to discover that she was absolutely
awry.

Still, however, Frederick and Ma-
ria went loving on; and their hearts
grew as one, so truly, so fondly were
they attached to each other. George,
who was somewhat of a plague to
the pair of lovers, was luckily at Ox-
ford, reading away till his head ached,
to qualify himself for a degree, and
the distant duties of the office whence
he was to cull bunches of diplomatic
laurels, and whence were to issue
rank and title, and ribbons and crosses
innumerable.

Things were in this prosperous
state, the bark of life rolling gaily
along before the breeze, when Mr.
Harding was one day proceeding
from his residence to his office in So-
merset-place, and in passing along
Charlotte - street, Bloomsbury, was
accosted by one of those female gip-
sies who are found begging in the
streets of the metropolis, and espe-
cially in the particular part of the

272

MAllTHA THE GIPSY.

town in question. " Pray remember
poor Martha the gipsy," said the wo-
man : " give me a halfpenny for chari-
ty, sir!"

Mr. Harding was a subscriber to
the Mendicity Society, an institution
which proposes to check beggary by
the novel mode of giving nothing to
the poor: moreover he was a magi-
strate ; moreover he had no change ;
and he desired the woman to go
about her business.

All availed him nothing; she still
followed him, and reiterated the pi-
teous cry, " Pray remember poor
Martha the gipsy!"

At length, irritated by the perse-
verance of the woman, for even sub-
ordinates in government hate to be
solicited importunately, Mr. Harding,
contrary to his usual custom, and
contrary to the customary usages of
modern society, turned hastily round,
and fulminated an oath against the
supplicating vagrant.

" Curse!" said Martha; " have I
lived to this? Hark ye, man — poor
weak haughty man! Mark me, look
at me !"

He did look at her; and beheld a
countenance on fire with rage. A
pair of eyes blacker than jet and
brighter than diamonds glared like
stars upon him; her black hair di-
shevelled hung over her olive cheeks;
and a row of teeth, whiter than the
driven snow, displayed themselves
from between a pair of coral lips, in
a dreadful smile, a ghastly sneer of
contempt which mingled in her pas-
sion. Harding was riveted to the
spot; and what between the power-
ful fascination of her superhuman
countenance and the dread of a dis-
turbance, he paused to listen to her.

" Maik me, sir," said Martha;
" you and I shall meet again. Thrice

shall you see me before you die. My
visitings will be dreadful; but the
third will be the last!"

There was a solemnity in this ap-
peal which struck to his heart, com-
ing as it did only from a vagrant out-
cast. Passengers were approaching;
and wishing, he knew not why, to
sooth the ire of the angry woman,
he mechanically drew from his pock-
et some silver, which he tendered to
her.

" There, my good woman — there,"
said he, stretching forth his hand.

" Good woman!" retorted the hag.
" Money now ? I — I that have been
cursed ? 'Tis all too late, proud gen-
tleman— the deed is done, the curse
be now on you." Saying which, she
tossed her ragged red cloak across
her shoulder, and hurried from his
sight, across the street by the side of
the chapel, into the recesses of St.
Giles's.

Harding felt a most extraordinary
sensation; he felt grieved that he had
spoken so harshly to the poor crea-
ture, and returned his shillings to his
pocket with regret. Of course, fear
of the fulfilment of her predictions
did not mingle with any of his feel-
ings on the occasion; and he pro-
ceeded to his office in Somerset-place,
and performed all the official duties
of reading the Opposition newspa-
pers, discussing the leading politics
of the day with the head of another
department, and of signing his name
three times before four o'clock.

Martha the gipsy, however, al-
though he had poohpoohed her out
of his memory, would ever and anon
flash across his mind ; her figure was
indelibly stamped upon his recollec-
tion; and though of course, as I be-
fore said, a man of his firmness and
intellect could care nothing, one way

MARTHA THE GIl'SY.

or another, for the maledictions of
an ignorant illiterate being like a
gipsy, still his feelings, whence aris-
ing I know not, prompted him to call
a hackney-coach, and proceed en vol-
ture to his house, rather than run the
risk of encountering the metropoli-
tan sibyl, under whose forcible de-
nunciation he was actually labouring.

There is a period in each day of
the lives of married people, at which
I am given to understand, a more
than ordinarily unreserved communi-
cation of facts and feelings takes
place ; when all the world is shut out,
and the two beings, who are in truth
but only one, commune together
freely and fully upon the occurrences
of the past day. At this period, the
else sacred secrets of the drawing-
room coterie, and the tellable jokes of
the after-dinner convivialists, are mu-
tually interchanged by the fond pair,
who, by the barbarous customs of
uncivilized Britain, have been sepa-
rated during part of the preceding
evening.

Then it is that the husband in-
forms his anxious consort how he has
forwarded his worldly views with
such a man, how he has carried his
point in such a quarter, what he
thinks of the talents of one, of the
character of another ; while the com-
municative wife gives her view of the
same subjects, founded upon what
she has gathered from the indivi-
duals composing the female cabinet,
and explains why she thinks he must
have been deceived upon this point,
or misled upon that. And thus in
recounting, in arguing, in discussing
and descanting, the blended interests
of the happy pair are strengthened,
their best hopes nourished, and per-
haps eventually realized.

Vol II L No. XV I L

A few friends at dinner and some
refreshers in the evening had pre-
vented Harding from saying a word
to his beloved Eliza about the gipsy ;
and perhaps till the " witching time"
which I have attempted to define, he
would not have mentioned the occur-
rence even had they been alone.
Most certainly he did not think the
less of the horrible vision; and when
the company had dispersed, and the
affectionate couple had retired to
rest, he stated the circumstance ex-
actly as it had occurred, and receiv-
ed from his fair lady just such an an-
swer as a prudent, intelligent, and
discreet woman of sense would give
to such a communication. She vin-
dicated his original determination
not to be imposed upon, wondered at
his subsequent willingness to give to
such an undeserving object while he
had three or four soup-tickets in his
pocket, was somewhat surprised that
he had not consigned the bold in-
truder to the hands of the beadle,
and ridiculing the impression which
the hag's appearance seemed to have
made upon her husband's mind, nar-
rated a tour performed by herself
with some friends to Norwood when
she was a girl, and when one of those
very women had told her fortune,
not one word of which ever came
true; and in a discussion of some
length, animadverting strongly upon
the weakness and impiety of putting
faith in the sayings of such creatures,
she fell fast asleep.

Not so Harding: he was restless
and worried, and felt that he would
give the world to be able to recal the
curse which he had rashly uttered
against the poor woman. Helpless
as she was, and in distress, why did
^ his passion conquer his judgment?
O o

274

MARTHA THE GIPSY.

Why did he add to the bitterness of
refusal the sting of malediction ? How-
ever, it was useless to regret that
which was past, and wearied and
mortified with his reflections, he at
length followed his better half into
that profound slumber which the
length and subject of his harangue
had so comfortably insured her.

The morning came, and brightly
beamed the sun, that is, as brightly
as it can beam in London. The of-
fice-hour arrived; and Mr. Harding
proceeded, not by Charlotte-street,
to Somerset -House, such was his
dread of seeing the ominous woman.
It is quite impossible to describe the
effect produced upon him by the ap-
prehension of encountering her; if
he heard a female voice behind him
in the street, he trembled and feared
to look round, lest he should behold
Martha. In turning a corner he pro-
ceeded carefully and cautiously, lest
he should come upon her unexpect-
edly; in short, wherever he went,
whatever he did, his actions, his
movements, his very words, were
controlled and constrained by the
horror of beholding her again.

The words she had uttered rang
incessantly in his ears ; nay, such
possession had they taken of him,
that he had written them down and
sealed the document which contained
them: "Thrice shall you see me be-
fore you die. My visitings will be
dreadful ; but the third will be the
last."

" Calais" was not imprinted more
deeply upon our queen's heart, than
these words upon that of Harding;
but he was ashamed of the strength
of his feelings, and placed the pa-
per wherein he had recorded them
at the very bottom of his desk.
Meanwhile Frederick Langdale was

unremitting in his attentions to Maria ;
but, as is too often the case, the
bright sunshine of their loves was
clouded. Her health, always deli-
cate, now appeared still more so, and
at times her anxious parents felt a
solicitude upon her account new to
them ; for symptoms of consumption
had shewn themselves, which the
faculty, although they spoke of them
lightly to the fond mother and to the
gentle patient, treated with such care
and caution, as gave alarm to those
who could see the progress of the
fatal disease, which was unnoticed
by Maria herself, who anticipated
parties and pleasure and gaieties in
the coming spring, which the doc-
tors thought it but too probable she
might never enjoy.

That Mr. Langdale's punctilio,
or Mrs. Langdale's excessive desire
for apparent juvenility, should have
induced the postponement of Maria's
marriage, was indeed a melancholy
circumstance. The agitation, the sur-
prise, thehope deferred, which weigh-
ed upon the sweet girl's mind, and
that doubting dread of something
unexpected which lovers always feel,
bore down her spirits and injured
her health: whereas, had the mar-
riage been celebrated, the relief she
would have experienced from all her
apprehensions, added to the tour of
France and Italy, which the happy
couple were to take immediately af-
ter their union,, would have restored
her to health, while it ensured her
happiness. This, however, was not
to be.

It was now some three months
since poor Mr. Harding's rencontre
with Martha, and habit and time
and constant avocation had conspired
to free his mind from the dread she
at first inspired. Again he smiled

MARTHA THE GIPSY,

and joked, again he enjoyed society,
and again dared to take the nearest
road to Somerset-House; nay, he
had so far recovered from the unac-
countable terror he had originally
felt, that he went to his desk, and
selecting the paper wherein he had
set down the awful denunciation of
the hag, deliberately tore it into bits,
and witnessed its destruction in the
fire with something like real satis-
faction, and a determination never
more to think upon so silly an affair.
Frederick Langdale was as usual
with his betrothed, and Mrs. Hard-
ing enjoying the egotism of the lovers
(for, as I said before, lovers think
their conversation the most charm-
ing in the world, because they talk of
nothing but themselves), when his
curricle was driven up to the door
to convey him to Tattersalfs, where
his father had commissioned him to
look at a horse, or horses, which he
intended to purchase; and Frederick
was, of all things in the world, the
best possible judge of a horse.

To this sweeping dictum, Mr. Hard-
ing, however, was not willing to as-
sent ; and therefore, in order to have
the full advantage of two heads,
which, as the proverb says, are better
than one, the worthy father-in-law
elect proposed accompanying the
youth to the auctioneer's at Hyde-
Park Corner, it being one of those
few privileged clays when the la-
bourers in our public offices make
holiday. The proposal was hailed
with delight by the young man, who,
in order to shew due deference to his
elder friend, gave the reins to Mr.
Harding, and bowing their adieux
to the ladies at the window, away
they went, the splendid cattle of Mr.

Langdale prancing and curveting,
fire flaming from their eyes, and
smoke bi'eathing from their nostrils.
The elder gentleman soon found
that the horses were somewhat be-
yond his strength, even putting his
skill wholly out of the question, and
in turning into Russell-street, pro-
posed giving the reins to Frederick.
By some misunderstanding of words
in the alarm which Harding felt,
Frederick did not take the reins
which he (perfectly confounded) ten-
dered to him. They slipped over
the dashing-iron between the horses,
who thus freed from restraint, reared
wildly in the air, and plunging for-
ward, dashed the vehicle against a
post, and precipitated Frederick and
Harding on the curb-stone: the off
horse kicked desperately as the car-
riage became entangled and impeded ,
and struck Frederick a desperate
blow on the head. Harding, whose
right arm and collar-bone were bro-
ken, raised himself on his left hand,
and saw Frederick weltering in blood
apparently lifeless before him. The
infuriated animals again plunged for-
ward with the shattered remnant of
the carriage; and as this object was
removed from his sight, the wretched
father-in-law beheld, looking upon
the scene with a fixed and an un-
moved countenance — Martha the
gipsy.

It was doubtful whether the aph
pearance of this horrible vision, cou-
pled as it was with the verification
of her prophecy, had not a more
dreadful effect upon Mr. Harding
than the sad reality before him. He
trembled, sickened, fainted, and fell
senseless on the ground.

( To be concluded in our next.)

O o 2

276

THE HEN-PECKED AUTHOR.
TO THE EDITOR.

SlK,

It is my misfortune to be
wedded to a shrew, by whom I am
most grievously hen-pecked. " A
wife," they say, " should be taken
down in her wedding shoes;" but,
having failed to do so, mine has be-
come my better half in earnest, or
rather, my three-quarters, as I call
her, though not to her face. Now
this is perhaps the greatest evil that
could befal a poor author, and to me
in particular it is so; for my three-
quarters is one of those matter-of-
fact persons who are very upas-trees
to genius. She is so averse to my
occupation, that it is only by stealth
I am enabled to commit to paper the
fruit of my meditations. The answer
to my remonstrances against such
treatment always is, " What good is
to come of all this nonsense?" To
attempt to reason her out of her ig-
norant prejudices would be downright
folly. The door of her understand-
ing seems closed against any thing
like argument. As well might the
beggar expect relief after the door
has been shut against him by the
thrifty housewife, as I to be listened
to when once she has given her opi-
nion.

If I sit down to write, she is sure
to find some cause for interrupting
me : I am to go on some message or
other; I must surrender the quill,
and drop the thread of my sub-
ject, to submit my hands to serve
as a spindle while she unravels some
miles of cotton-twist; and at the same
time have my thoughts diverted, and
my patience exhausted, by a lecture
on the comparative merits of brown

and white soap, or some equally im-
portant topic; or I must, forsooth,
prostitute my talents and waste my
time in drawing out an estimate of
the difference of expense between
finding the maids in tea and sugar,
or giving them a guinea in lieu. It
is washing week, perhaps, and I
must walk out with the children, or
have a legion of noisy brats quar-
tered on me for the day. The cook
wants some peas for dinner, and I
must gather them; or my three-
quarters wants something from the
market-town, and I must drive her in
the pony-chaise. All this, to an au-
thor who has his head brimful of no-
ble ideas, which he pants to commit
to paper, is purgatory itself.

Suppose, however, that it is not
washing week, and that I have seen
my rib — rib, do I say? surely the or-
der of creation must, in such cases
as mine, be reversed — well, suppose
I have seen my wife (for that word
does not imply any thing like subjec-
tion), or, if that wont do, my mistress,
busily engaged in some domestic oc-
cupation, or quietly employed in
scolding the maids — a job in which,
being congenial to her disposition,
she evinces the utmost sang froid,
and which once begun, does not
readily end — that, taking advantage
of this diversion in my favour, I have
seated myself snugly down to some
favourite work. Well, just as I have
got to an interesting passage, and
my pen begins to move in unison
with my rapidly conceived ideas, in
bounces my three-quarters with a
ponderous bundle under her arm,
and, with the well-known exclama-

THE HEN-PECKED AUTIIOH.

tion of, " At your nonsense again,
Mr. Quill !" sweeps all the noble plans
which I have been cutting out for
the good of the nation oft" the table,
to make room for the calicos which
she is going to cut out for the brats.
Should I seek refuge from this Go-
thic inroad in a bed-room (for my
dressing-room has long been convert-
ed into a store-room), I am quickly
unkenneled by some Vandal of a
housemaid (for my wife, like most
scolds, is most insufferably cleanly in
her house), and compelled again to
break cover. It is ten to one but
in a fit of rage I throw my MS. into
the fire, and thus perhaps the finest
scheme for the salvation of millions
ends in smoke.

From your soid do not you pity
me, Mr. Editor? But how will it har-
row up your editorial feelings when
I tell you, that, returning from town
after a short absence on business of
my wife's (for I am not allowed to
have any of my own), and having
taken that opportunity to bargain
with a bookseller for the publication
of a pamphlet, which, as you may
suppose from the difficulties I la-
bour under, must have cost me a
world of trouble and anxiety to com-
pose, I found that my three-quarters
had got hold of the MS. and cut it
up! Aye, cut it up, Mr. Editor,
and before it was published (had she
cut it up afterwards, it would have
been but fair criticism, whether she
had read it or not) ; and cut it up
into what do you suppose? Into co-
verings for jam-pots! Heavens! my
grand work on the liquidation of the
national debt to be used as a cover-
ing for jam-pots! This was more
than flesh and blood could bear. In
short, it produced such a fracas as
almost to end in a separation. It

would have been well for the world
had it been so ; but unhappily the
little property we possess came
through my wife, and is so settled,
that had we parted, I must have de-
pended entirely on my brain for sub-
sistence, and I was not then suffici-
ently convinced of its provisional
powers to trust to its resources.

Here I would caution my friends
about to enter the marriage state
never, as they value their peace, to
submit to such a settlement; or, what-
ever fortune a wife may bring, not
to let the purse-strings out of their
own hands; for as sure as ever she
gets them she will turn them into
reins, and then she will not only
wear the breeches, but the boots and
spurs also. This horrible catastro-
phe of the jam-pots haunts me to
this day. The very sight of a sweet-
meat-pot is sufficient to throw me
into fits. The sight of a hare com-
ing into the house takes away my
appetite for the day; and I would
rather walk thirty miles than go near
the store-room, where the sight of
my mutilated pamphlet, ranged in
military order on the shelves, is suf-
ficient to throw me into a fit of the
blues.

My very children, Mr. Editor, are
set in array against me. The chick-
ens, as well as the hen, have all a
peck at me in turn. The baby may
tear my papers with impunity, and
the elder ones may pull them about,
or spill the ink over my writing; while
a page of " pa's nonsense" is, at any
time, a trophy worthy of being ex-
changed for a sugar-plum.

Once, when I had smuggled a
quire of foolscap into the house, it
caught my wife's eye. " Ho! ho!
Mr. Quill, that foolscap is to be filled
by your fool's head I suppose?" This

473

Tim CONFESSIONS OF A ItAMULF.K.

was a hard hit, and one which I did
not expect from that quarter ; but I
thought to turn it to account, so 1
attacked my three-quarters on the
side of her vanity, by praising her
wit. But, no, it would not do; I
found her impenetrable to flattery on
that point. It was clear that the bon-
mot had escaped her almost involun-
tarily, and that she was scarcely con-
scious she had said any thing out of
the common way. Since this I have
given up all attempts to reconcile her
to my literary pursuits, which I am
compelled to carry on in the old way,
in holes and corners, and by sly op-

portunities. No wonder then if my
pen, instead of displaying boldness,
originality, and freedom, should par-
take but of the obliquity of my un-
fortunate situation.

If, Mr. Editor, you are desirous
of my future contributions, pray give
an early place to this statement, which,
when she sees it in print, may per-
haps produce some change of con-
duct in my three-quarters; for unless
that be effected, I can promise you
but little, and that but of indifferent
quality. I am, yours, &c. &c. &c.

B. Jeremy Quill.

THE CONFESSIONS OF A RAMBLER.

No. VIII.

The winter set in early, and prov-
ed a very severe one. This circum-
stance delayed my departure from
Alexandria some weeks after the
time for which I had fixed it, and
gave occasion to my forming an ac-
quaintance with a family, in whose
history there was much of romance,
and in whose society I subsequently
spent some of the pleasantest hours
of my life.

In a severe winter, the Americans
have various amusements with which
to cheat " the lazy foot of Time," and
urge him on his flight. The rapid
river Potowmac being frozen from
shore to shore, afforded the skaters
ample opportunities of exhibiting
their agile movements; and thehurl-
ers were not backward in pursuing
their more athletic sport. But the
pleasantest of all the winter amuse-
ments, to me at least, was sleigh-
riding. This can only be practised
when the ground is covered with
snow, to which a hard frost has giv-
en firmness and consistence. Then,

with a good horse, a clear sky, and
a bright moon " to light you on your
way," many an hour may be passed
most delightfully.

One evening, I was driving Miss
Fitzherbert home from a friend's
house, preparatory to taking a length-
ened excursion myself, as I not un-
frequently did, when an accident oc-
curred, which was at once truly cha-
racteristic of the real thorough-bred
American, at the same time that it
afforded me the introduction of which
I have spoken above. We had near-
ly reached Mr. Mortimer's house,
when a loud shriek, and a coach,
seemingly from an adjacent street, at-
tracted our attention. On proceed-
ing to the spot, we found a sleigh
thrown off the runners, and other-
wise much damaged ; and a gentle-
man and three ladies were just reco-
vering themselves from a comfortable
roll in the snow, into which they had
been rather unceremoniously preci-
pitated. The accident was occasion-
ed by the concussion of two sleighs

THE CONFESSIONS OF A IIAMKI.F.R.

279

that were passing down separate
streets, which intersected each other.
Meeting just at the point of intersec-
tion, one of the sleighs, being per-
haps the slighter of the two, was
overturned with its freight, whilst
the other received little or no injury.
The only occupants of the latter were
two gentlemen; and it was but natu-
ral to suppose, that they would have
immediately offered to accommodate
the ladies, who were so unexpected-
ly and unpleasantly ousted from their
vehicle. This, however, did not ac-
cord with the cool calculating policy
of our Americans. They did not
drive over the prostrate fair-ones cer-
tainly; they even stopped their horse,
and offered their assistance to put
the shattered sleigh to rights; but
this was found a task beyond their
efforts, and a neighbouring carpen-
ter being called in to the consultation,
he said it would take several hours to
repair. The party had come from
Washington, a distance of nine miles;
they were expected home at an early
hour, and did not wish to alarm their
friends by an absence prolonged be-
yond the time fixed for their return.
With some little reluctance, there-
fore, as the offer was not voluntarily
made, the gentleman asked the own-
er of the sleigh if he would grant
him the loan of it to convey the la-
dies home, giving his name and ad-
dress, and promising to return with
it the next morning. Mr. Smith,
however, as I found this person was
called, was not of so accommodating
a humour. He replied, after some
hesitation, and exchanging a few
words with his companion, " I guess,
do ye see, that you have no claim
upon us, as the accident was owing
as much to your own want of care,
as to any thing else ; but I have no

objection to letting you have the
sleigh, I accepting your security for
its return, if you will give me a dol-
lar for the loan of it; and you can-
not hire one for that sum in the town,
I guess."

What reply the gentleman would
have made I know not; for I, who
had heard the application and the
answer, immediately exclaimed : —
" Why you contemptible vender of
threads and tapes, have you the con-
science to demand a dollar for an ac-
commodation, which, if you had ei-
ther gallantry or politeness, you
would have been proud to have of-
fered, without waiting to be asked?
But, my dear sir," I continued, ad-
dressing the stranger, " my sleigh is
at your service. I was just conveying
that young lady home (pointing to
Miss F. who was with the stranger
ladies at a little distance), and we are
scarcely two hundred yards from her
residence."

" Thanks, thanks," be replied: " I
will accept your offer as frankly as it
is made; for I should not like to be
under any obligation to that churl:
so, Mr. Jonathan, you may pack up
your sleigh and be off."

" I guess," said Smith, " you would
have been glad to have snapped at my
offer, if this here chap had'nt stept
in and choused me out of a dollar:
much good may his civility do him,
that's all! You'll may be be over-
turned again before you reach the
city : so good night to ye ; and ye'll
not come to ask Bob Smith to lend
you his sleigh again, I guess."

" Indeed I will not, you sour old
curmudgeon," replied my new friend,
as the worthy pair drove off, chuck-
ling as if they had achieved a very
smart, instead of having been guilty
of a most mean action. The ladies,

:80

the Confessions of a uamtjlki;.

who, whilst we were parleyftig with
the Americans, had been walking up
and down engaged in earnest chat,
now approached: " Well, Charles,"
said one, " how have you settled, are
we to remain here all night? — " No :
this gentleman has kindly offered us
the use of his sleigh, which I have
accepted, and if you could persuade
him and that lady to return with us,
I should be happy to welcome them
to our humble habitation ; and I am
sure my father and mother would be
delighted." — " What say you ?" ex-
claimed all the ladies at once to Miss
Fitzherbert: " I'm sure you will go;
and," continued the one who had first
spoken, " if you go, you know, the
gentleman cannot of course remain
behind." — " I really have no objec-
tion," replied Louisa. — " Nor have
I any in the least," I rejoined. It
was therefore a decided thing : the
carpenter bundled oft* the shattered
sleigh to his store ; we harnessed the
horse that had been attached to it,
tandem- fashion, to mine; and, taking
Mr. Mortimer's in our way, to inform
him of our destination, we set off,
" six merry souls, and all agog" for
any species of fun, even if associated
with a little mischief not the less
agreeable.

It was a lovely night;
The silver Moon unclouded herd her way
Through skies where you might count each
little star;

and the effect of her rays reflected
from the roads, which had the ap-
pearance of fine alabaster, was most
beautiful. The air was keen, but
not piercingly cold ; and enveloped
in warm wrappers, with thick wool-
len carpets for our feet, we bade defi-
ance to the weather, and gaily rat-
tled away for the federal city at a
pretty brisk rate. ' We laughed, we
sang,. we joked, and the hour which

was employed in our journey to the
banks of the Potowmac was voted,
by common consent, one of the short-
est we had ever passed. There was
no bridge, and we were obliged to
get, sleigh and all, into a large fer-
ry-boat, which, by the aid of pad-
dles, soon took us over to the oppo-
site side. The ford was kept open
by men being employed to cut away
the ice ; and as our boat glided along
the narrow channel, the association
of ideas almost made us imagine our-
selves in Lapland or Norway ; the
heights around us being covered with
snow, and the river, with the excep-
tion of the canal in which we were
floating, being a mass of solid ice.

Once more landed, we were soon
set down at the door of our new
friends' residence. It was opened
by a grey-headed old man, who, when
he saw the party, exclaimed, " Oh !
Master Charles, how glad I am to
see you and the young ladies safe !
We have had a thousand fears, be-
cause you were not home by the time
you promised." — "We are not much
beyond it I think, my good Ham-
mond," said Charles. " But where
are my father and mother? Here are
some strangers whom I wish to in-
troduce."— " They are in the par-
lour, sir," replied the old man; to
which room he led the way, and we
were ushered into the presence of
Mr. and Mrs. Ridley, a most pre-
possessing couple, who won our
hearts in one instant by their en-
gaging manners. They were English
too, another recommendation; and
all formality thrown aside, we were,
in a few moments, upon as good a
footing as if we had been the friends
of many years, instead of the ac-
quaintances of the hour.

Of all the pleasures derived from

Tlttt COXFFSSIONs OF A UAMBLF.R.

281

social intercourse, there is none great-
er than that arising from the meeting
in a foreign land with congenial kin-
dred minds of the same country, men
whom " sympathy makes one," and in
whose breasts a union of opinions
and of taste is to be found. At such
a time, the full heart overflows with
joy and gladness, the spirits are rais-
ed to their highest pitch of elasticity,
and the whole frame is animated with
the most delightful emotions. Such,
at least, was always the case with
me when I was a wanderer from the
land of my birth. I would at any
time have walked ten or twenty miles,
even through American roads, which
in most places were at that time little
better than quagmires, to have shak-
en an Englishman by the hand ; to
have conversed with him of that
" gem of the ocean," our own dear
little island; and to have joined him
in drinking the health of her king in
generous wine.

With such companions then as
Mr. and Mrs. Ridley, and their warm-
hearted son and elegant daughters,
I could not but feel truly happy. I
passed such an evening as I had
scarcely ever passed before; and Miss
Fitzherbert seemed quite as much
delighted as myself. I have said the
history of this worthy family partook
of the romantic — that must be the
subject of another paper. Here I
can only give a description of their
persons and character.

Mr. Ridley was a fine-looking old
gentleman of sixty; his mild placid
countenance was always illuminated
with the smiles of benevolence, and
his form and demeanour bespoke the
man of fashion and of family. His
manners were those of a finished
gentleman of the old school, except,

Vol III. No. XVII.

perhaps, that they wanted something
of the formality which characterized
the votary of good-breeding some
sixty years ago ; and were, therefore,
the more pleasing and interesting.

His heart was the seat of every
virtue, and his imagination never
framed a thought to which his tongue
refused to give utterance.

Mrs. Ridley was a woman well
worthy to share the fortunes of her
husband. She had evidently been
beautiful, and Time had laid a gen-
tle hand upon her. Her once fine
auburn locks were now a little tinged
with grey; her countenance was slight-
ly marked with the line of age ; but
it was such an aspect as bespoke at
once, love, reverence, and esteem.
She was majestic in figure, and it
mightindeed be said with strict truth,

that

" Grace was in all her steps."

Charles was the youthful image of
his father, and appeared to resem-
ble him as closely in disposition as in
person. He was frank and high-
spirited ; quick to resent an affront,
but slow to offer one ; " with a hand
open as day to melting charity," and
a heart the seat of every virtue.

The daughters — but I am not able
to do them justice. United in affec-
tions and interests, equally lovely in
person, yet all gifted with different
kinds of beauty, they were three
Graces, dispensing love and happi-
ness to all within their sphere. Ann
(the eldest) was rather of a grave
disposition; Maria was sedate, yet
always ready to join in any innocent
mirth ; whilst Eliza was the very soul
of whim and merriment. She was a
perfect laughing Hebe ; her face was
continually dressed in smiles, except
when the ready tear of sympathy
P p

232

IlELlGIOUS INTOLERANCE IN THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY.

was called forth by a tale of woe,
and by the sight of any unfortunate
objects of compassion, of which the
streets of America were by no means
destitute.

Such was the family to whom my
lucky stars, or rather a kind Provi-
dence, introduced me. We were mu-
tually pleased with each other, and
on the first evening of my introduc-
tion it was a very late, or rather a

very early hour, before we separated.
I was compelled to return to Alex-
andria with Miss Fitzherbert the
next morning; but our future inter-
course was frequent, and always pro-
ductive of pleasure. In the course
of time I became acquainted with
their history, which shall form the
subject of my next paper.

A Rambler.

REMARKABLE INSTANCE OF RELIGIOUS INTOLERANCE
IN THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY.

The following narrative furnishes
a curious, and at the same time me-
lancholy, illustration of the atrocities
practised in Germany from religious
intolerance during the memorable
Thirty Years war in the 17th centu-
ry. It will be recollected, that this
war was itself a war of religion, ori-
ginating in a league of the Protestant
princes of the Empire, for the defence
of themselves and their faith against
the efforts of the Catholics to crush
both. The latter were headed by
the emperor, and assisted by the
French; while the great Gustavus
Adolphus of Sweden stepped forth
as the champion of the Protestant
cause, and notwithstanding his death
at the battle of Li'ttzen, his troops
penetrated almost into the heart of
the hereditary states of the house of
Austria.

On the 4th of July, 1642, the
city of Olmiitz in Moravia was occu-
pied by Swedish troops, under the
command of Major-General Winter.
A few days afterwards a report was
circulated, that near the bastion at
the Vienna gate, close to the very
massive wall, a human voice was
heard singing. Such a mysterious
phenomenon at a place where it seem-

ed impossible that any thing of the
kind covdd occur, naturally excited
a very extraordinary sensation.

The general himself, a good sol-
dier, but not much of a philosopher,
heard this faint singing in company
with his chaplain. Both were of
opinion that this unaccountable cir-
cumstance deserved investigation. A
mason was therefore sent for, and
ordered, in the presence of both
gentlemen, to break a hole in the
wall, at the spot whence the sounds
seemed to proceed. This man, who
was of the Catholic persuasion, and
probably had his suspicions relative
to the matter, worked indeed to a
considerable depth into the wail;
but nothing was found that could
throw any light on this seemingly
impenetrable mystery.

On listening attentively, however,
to the sound, a very small apertm*e
was soon discovered in the interior
of the upper part of the wall. Pro-
testant workmen were then fetched
from the city, and these began with
more judgment to break away the
wall somewhat higher. To the as-
tonishment of the spectators, the ma-
sonry was found in places still quite
fresh, and no sooner had the men

RELIGIOUS INTOLERANCE IN THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY.

283

removed a few stones, than, to their
extreme consternation, they perceiv-
ed, as they thought, a spectre in a
sitting posture. Several of the by-
standers, too incredulous to believe
the report of the workmen without
ocular demonstration, beheld with
their own eyes the apparition, which
looked like a shrivelled old man with
a long beard and silver hair. At
first they all doubted the evidence
of their senses. Many, not caring
to involve themselves unnecessarily
with a spectre, stole away in affright;
and the general himself lost his pre-
sence of mind for a few moments.
In his first alarm, he requested the
chaplain to exorcise the spirit; but
the latter entreated permission to pur-
sue the inquiry in his own way. For
this purpose, he caused the opening
in the wall to be enlarged; and that
done, he touched the apparently life-
less figure, and thereby convinced
himself that it was at any rate not a
supernatural being with which he had
to do.

The rest were by this time pretty
well relieved from their fears, and
one or two of them actually ventured
down into the aperture. To the
great joy of all, symptoms of life were
discovered in the supposed spectre,
which was neither more nor less than
a venerable old man, who, on the
sudden access of the fresh air to his
close cell, and perhaps also out of
joy at the near approach of his de-
liverance, had sunk down speechless
and insensible in a sitting attitude.

The hole in which the unfortunate
man was immured was a narrow qua-
drangular receptacle, not more than
four feet square, impervious to the
light, and which had no communica-
tion with the external air but by a
kind of flue that was carried upward

and out at one side of the wall. At
his feet stood a pitcher and the rem-
nant of a loaf, which was still good
and eatable.

The corpse-like prisoner was soon
lifted out of his dungeon, and the
most efficacious means were employ-
ed for his revival. They proved suc-
cessful. The old man, on his reco-
very, was assailed with questions:
every one was anxious to know who
he was, and what monster had there
entombed him alive. Mustering all
his strength, he thus began:

" My name is John Gottreu Felr-
ncr, and till the year 1(>29 I was
Protestant minister here at Olmi'itz.
But the Catholics persecuted me
and my congregation in all possible
ways, and at length banished me
from the city on account of my reli-
gion, threatening me with imprison-
ment in case I should be found here
again."

" Is it possible?" exclaimed the ge-
neral. " Is it possible?" resounded
from all sides. The Catholics stole
away one after another; while the
Protestants, whose feelings began to
be more deeply interested, pressed
closer around the venerable narrator.
There were several of them who
knew him again, and who thanked
God for his deliverance. It was a
scene that would have melted the
most obdurate heart. Each listened
with profound attention, and the un-
fortunate old man thus proceeded:

" At the request of some of the
most discreet of my congregation, I
returned the same year to the city,
and officiated secretly in their houses';
yet not so secretly but that I was
discovered, and by command of the
father rector of the Jesuits walled
up in the night-time alive."

It was now, as we have stated,
P r 2

284

RELIGIOUS INTOLERANCE IN HIE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY.

the year 1642; consequently thirteen
whole years had elapsed since this
event. The preservation of the aged
pastor in a hole destitute of light for
so long a space of time had the air
of a real miracle, which the relics of
the bread unspoiled during that pe-
riod only served to render still more
inexplicable. And yet those who
had belonged to his congregation,
who knew him again, and who recol-
lected the time of his banishment,
unanimously agreed, that full thirteen
years had elapsed since his disap-
pearance. Every other feeling was
now absorbed in astonishment.

Meanwhile the poor old man, ex-
hausted by the effort he had made
to tell the story of his sufferings, had
again fallen into a kind of swoon.
The general, aware of the impro-
priety of overwhelming one just risen
as it were from the dead with a thou-
sand questions, ordered him to be
carried to his own quarters, and plac-
ed under the care of his surgeon.
At the same time he gave directions
for the immediate apprehension of
the father rector, who was still living.

As soon as Felsner had recovered
sufficient strength to be able, with-
out inconvenience, to explain his ap-
parently wonderful preservation for j
so long a period, he gave, unsolicited,
to the general and his chaplain, who
were alone with him, a key to the
extraordinary mystery.

" My dear friends," said he, " I
now address you as my deliverers, as
men of honour, and who can keep
» secret. The professors of our
faith are sufficiently oppressed al-
ready, and you will certainly not ren-
der their condition still more wretch-
ed by prematurely communicating to
the world a secret which I must con-
fide to you: for the gratitude which

I owe to you, general, as the restor-
er of my p&btikl existence, forbids my
heart to leave you longer under a
delusion ; and though a solemn pro-
mise binds me to silence towards the
world, yet this engagement cannot
extend to you, who would with plea-
sure contribute, as far as lies in your
power, to promote the comfort and
happiness of the confessors of the
same faith with yourself.

" My wonderful preservation is not
an exception to the immutable laws
of nature. It is true indeed that the
father rector of the Jesuits here caus-
ed me thirteen years ago to be in-
closed in the wall where you found
me, after he had contrived to pro-
cure from his Imperial majesty an or-
der for my banishment; but I did
not languish for thirteen successive
years in that dismal cell. It was the
intention of my persecutor that I
should perish with hunger ; but
though my pitcher of water was not
like the widow's cruise of oil in the
Scripture, and no ravens brought
food to me as they did to Elijah,
still thehand of Providence hath won-
derfully preserved me, and through
your instrumentality, general, com-
pletely restored me to the world.

" The Jesuits placed a sentinel
before the wall of my cell; but he
was dismissed on the evening of the
second day. I had meanwhile pre-
pared myself for death, and though
exhausted as I already was, I strove
to keep up my fortitude by singing a
hymn suitable to my situation. At
the third verse, I heard a knocking
with a hammer on the outside of the
wall. It was evidently some one try-
ing to break through. An opening
was soon made. It is a singular fact,
that though I was already at the
gates of death, still I was afraid that

RELIGIOUS INTOLERANCE IN THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY.

I was about to be murdered. 13y the
light of a small lantern, however, I
soon recognised with transport in the
workmen two members of my con-
gregation, named Beyer, father and
son, wlio, like guardian angels, ad-
dressed to me the reviving words,
' We are come to release you.'

" When the aperture was large
enough, they assisted me to creep
through it, for I was extremely weak.
The father conducted me with all
possible speed to his house, while the
son remained to close up the hole
again.

" I was now delivered indeed from
the narrow dungeon that was des-
tined for my grave ; but the preserv-
ers of my life could not give me back
the liberty to perform in public the
duties of my sacred office. During
the whole thirteen years, their habi-
tation was my secret asylum. Jointly
with some other Protestants of this
place, to whom I acted in the utmost
privacy as pastor and teacher, they
provided all that time for my subsist-
ence. Thus did we wait, supported
by faith under continued oppression,
for the period of our deliverance.

" On the entry of your troops we
confidently hoped that it was arriv-
ed. I might then have been public-
ly placed under your protection, ge-
neral ; but not only would this have
excited fresh animosity against our
party whenever your troops might be
withdrawn, but I should also have
been necessitated to quit with you
this city and my congregation for
ever. It was therefore considered in
what manner it would be possible to
restore me publicly to the world, and
at the same time to awaken the sym-
pathy of such of our Catholic fellow
townsmen, whose naturally benevo-
lent hearts arc not yet wholly per-

verted by the religious fury and so-
phistries of their teachers, and who
have not lost all feeling for suffering
humanity.

" To this end it was resolved to
replace me with some bread and wa-
ter in my former dungeon, that
through your means I might be pub-
licly restored to the world in the man-
ner with which you are already ac-
quainted.

" I never approved of the employ-
ment of deception in order to accom-
plish a good purpose; still less does
it agree with my principles now when
I am on the brink of the grave : but
gratitude to my long-tried benefac-
tors constrained me in this instance
to comply with their wishes, especi-
ally as in my situation I had not the
power to enforce any will of my own.

" Out of affection for me and the
professors of our faith in this city,
one of the sons of my deceased de-
liverer, Beyer, enlisted into your re-
giment shortly before my last incar-
ceration. While he was on duty one
night near my dungeon, his brother
undertook to wall me up in it again.
The former purposely spread a re-
port that this place was haunted, and
you know the result."

The general now directed that the
father rector of the Jesuits should be
brought to trial for murder. The Je-
suit at first stedfastly denied that he
knew what had become of Felsner,
the last Lutheran pastor of Olmutz,
further than that he had been con-
veyed out of the city by command of
the sovereign, and banished the coun-
try. But when the general led forth
the persecuted old man from behind
a screen, which had previously con-
cealed him from view, a horror not
to be described suddenly seized the
father rector; he shook in every

286

MUSICAL KKVIKW.

joint. He was at once tortured by
the stings of awakened conscience,
and crushed by the conviction of an
appalling miracle. As he knew no-
thing of the natural deliverance of
Felsner, the victim whom he had sa-
crificed thirteen years ago was in his
eyes raised from the dead, or preserv-
ed by divine justice to give evidence
against him. He sunk on his knees,
and implored mercy and forgiveness
of God and the world for his medi-
tated atrocity.

The court-martial, agreeably to
the spirit of the age, doomed the fa-
ther to perish with hunger in the
same cell which he had destined for
the grave of Felsner. The general,
however, mitigated the sentence, at
the urgent intercession of Felsner

and the chaplain, and ordered that
he should be shut up for eight days
only, with a sufficient supply of bread
and water; but at the same time
taught to believe, that the judgment
of the court was to be literally and
completely fulfilled.

The Jesuit was actually immured,
and a sentry stationed before his
dungeon. At the expiration of eight
days it was broken open, for the pur-
pose of liberating him; but the pri-
soner was found lifeless. It is pro-
bable that he had not perished of
hunger, but that remorse, and appre-
hensions of the painful death which
would await him after his supply of
bread and waterwasconsumed, short-
ened his days.

MUSICAL REVIEW

British and Foreign popular Airs,
adapted as familiar Rondos and
Variations for the Piano-forte,
by Joseph de Pinna. Pr. Is. 6d.
each. — (Clementi and Co.)
Tins book has been some time in
our possession, and we should blame
ourselves deeply if the delay of which
we have to accuse ourselves should
be attributed to any thing but abso-
lute inadvertence. The fact candidly
told is, that the work, as soon as we
had it, fell into the hands of a young
friend, who was so delighted with
its varied and interesting contents,
that while it engrossed all her atten-
tion, it escaped ours.

This volume is of considerable
bulk, and its elegant typographical
execution forms an outward feature of
recommendation. It contains twenty-
five pieces, founded on British and
foreign airs of admitted estimation.
Some of these are converted into

rondos ; others have variations ap-
pended to them; and each is pre-
ceded by an appropriate and by no
means commonplace prelude. The
treatment of these subjects, whether
in the way of rondos or variations, de-
mands our unqualified applause. Mr.
De Pinna not only enters through-
out fully into the character of his
motivo, but he seizes every invitation
it holds out to adorn and diversify
his text in a pleasing and often in a
highly interesting manner. Many of
the harmonic combinations with which
he winds up the pieces are of a de-
cidedly classic stamp. When we
add, that all these advantages are
obtained without entailing appalling
difficulties on the pupil, and that the
whole book is adapted to the sphere
of players of very moderate attain-
ments, it will follow, that Mr. De
Pinna's comprehensive undertaking
is precisely of a description to please

MUSICAL RKVIKW

287

and advance the musical student.
We have had a practical proof of
this assertion in the circumstance
which caused the delay above ad-
verted to.

The pieces in the book are twenty-
five in number, and as they are to
be procured singly, the following-
enumeration may be useful: 1. Come
buy my Cherries — 2. J ivari tittle le
vezzose. — 3. March in Blue Beard.
— k Hark the bonny Christ Church
Bells. — 5. Trip it lightly. — 6. Je
suis sorti de man Pays. — 7. Hark
the Lark at Heaven's Gate sings. —
8. See, ye Swains. — 9. Marseillois
March. — 10. Fve hissed and I 're
prattled. — 11. Su cantiamo, sit be-
viamo. — 12. Hermosa y Huena que-
rida. — 13. Fie! nay prythee, John.
— 14. Giovinette die fate all' amove.
— 15. Le Gar con volage. — 16. Fra
tante angoscie. — 17. By dimpled
Brook.— 18. The dusty Miller.— U).
O Pescator delV Onda.— 20. Over
the Hills and far away. — 21 . Planx-
ty Connor. —22. Allegrino, from Mo-
zart's Op. 19. — 23. xVom piu andrai.
— 24. How happy s the Soldier. —
25. Zitti, zitti, piano, piano.
" Aussitot que la lumiere" with Va-
riations for the Piano-forte, com-
posed, and dedicated tcith Per-
mission to her Royal Highness
the Duchess of Gloucester, by
Wi H. Cutler. Pr. 2s.— (Clementi
and Co.)

Mr. Cutler's variations to this sim-
ple yet elegant French theme, nine
in number, claim very favourable no-
tice. The greater part are written
with freedom and tasteful ease, and
in a style of selectness which places
them above the common compositions
of this class. The four first varia-
tions, the second part of the seventh,
and the conclusion of the ninth, may

be mentioned as the most advanta-
geous specimens of Mr. C.'s labour:
the minore (var. 4.) in particular,
presents some well chosen and solid
harmonic combinations.

In propounding the theme (p. 8*)
Mr. C. has indulged in too much
modulation; i.e. he has brought for-
ward his learning at too early a stage
of the book. The theme should al-
ways be given in its simple guise,
both as to melody and harmony. The
utmost latitude allowable in the lat-
ter respect would be an exhibition
of the authentic harmony in the most
proper and effective form, but with-
out any alteration of the authentic
chords, except perhaps in such rare
cases where the original harmonic
structure might not have been the
most adequate. Alterations of chord.-?
ought to be reserved for the varia-
tions, just as much as changes or
amplifications in the melody; for va-
riation is legitimately applicable to
the latter as well as to harmony.
Hence we hold it to be premature to
forestal so important a resource as
that which harmony affords. In the
present case Mr. C. has in several
instances reversed the principle, in-
asmuch as some of the variations
hare more or less the authentic har-
mony, which is not to be found in his
representation of the theme.
" Mary," a Song, with an Accom-
paniment for the Harp or Piano-
forte.dedicated to Miss Gisborne;
the Words by Mr. C. Clementi,
the Music by W. H. Cutler, Mus.
Bac. Oxon. Price Is. 6d. — (Cle-
menti and Co.)
A lover's hyperbolic protestations

* As the pages begin with 8, and
"Cutler's fantasia, Op. 17," is marked
on each, these variations seem to form
but a portion of another publication.

288

musical review:

are not to be weighed in the scale of
propriety, otherwise we should en-
ter our objections against the man-
ner in which this poetical swain con-
trasts religious devotion with the ado-
ration of his Mary. Petrarca hard- j
ly ever went the same lengths. The
music of this warm effusion is corre-
spondingly spirited and pleasing,
without ascending to melodic com-
binations of a striking or novel cast.
The musical sense of the passage at
" Complexion and clime" is much too
final for the phrase, " Complexion
and clime the idols of worship vary."
" Sweet Ellen, the maid of the mill"
a Ballad, sung by Master Long-
hurst of the Theatre Royal Co-
vent-Garden, written by Thomas
Blake, and inscribed to Ellen ; the
Music by W. H. Cutler, Mus.
Bac. Oxon. Pr. Is. 6d. — (de-
menti and Co.)

A ballad of a plain cast. The
three stanzas have been set out and
out, and the melodic expression of
the text, although, generally speak-
ing, not of a novel description, is
suitable and fluent. In the second
bar of the symphony (which is ra-
ther homely), the harmony had bet-
ter, as in the vocal part, have remain-
ed on G instead of D.
Vocal Anthology, or the Flowers of
Song,$c. PartX. Pr. 6s.— (Gale,
Bruton-street.)

Contents : English, " Breathe
soft, ye winds," glee by Paxton. —
Italian, " I will not have a man
that's tall," by Generali. — German,
" Italy," by Beethoven. — German,
" Court me not," by Zumsteeg. —
French, " Ce que je desire," by
Boyeldieu.— Original, " The Stream-
let," by Cather.

Among the above there is a gemH
which, in point of sweet melodious-

ness, intense feeling, and excellent
harmonic colouring, is not excelled
by any vocal composition of the same
extent that has ever fallen under our
observation. It is Beethoven's mu-
sic to Goethe's " Kennst du das land"
(Kenst thou the land). What a strik-
ing resemblance in the two languages!
a poem which Lord Byron has close-
ly and successfully imitated. Rei-
chardt's composition of the same
text, which has appeared in the se-
venth part of the Vocal Anthology,
is certainly very interesting ; but Beet-
hoven's Muse penetrated more deep-
ly into the spirit of the German po-
et, and has produced a master-piece.
We have heard it so often, that we
know its whole construction by heart,
and yet it always excites our wonder
and delight.

There is another great curiosity in
this book, a comic trio by Generali, an
elegant Neapolitan composer, whom
Rossini has often imitated in style and
harmony. In this trio, the three vo-
cal parts throughout sing but one
note, viz. a: so that, with a proper
observance of time, any child may
take whichever of the three parts be
allotted to him. A considerable de-
gree of ingenuity is displayed in the
disposition of these endless it's, and
the great support of the composition
is derived from its rich and varied
accompaniment.

Mr. Cather's air, " The Stream-
let," is very meritorious: not quite so
simple, however, as the critical no-
tice of the contents led us to think.
The Life of Rossini is continued in
the present number, but not yet con-
cluded.

" How all is still around me," an In*
vocation to Madness, written by
Francis Wyman, jun. ; composed,
with an Accompaniment for the

MUSICAL lUiVJUS'JW,

; ^[ano-forte, by Thomas Severn.

Pr. is. — (Author, Goswell-street-

road.)

An invocation to madness! The
very title proclaimed too serious a
thing for us to join in, and the gloomy
text by no means subdued our re-
luctance. Such poetry should be
left to be read by those who delight
in the sombre and awful ; but should
not be sung. What pleasure can
there be in singing of " worms creep-
ing over the dead?" Huh! it shivers
one to think of it.

Mr. Severn, therefore, appears to
us to have made an unhappy choice
of a subject for his lyric Muse ; and
as he has composed the whole poem
out and out, to the extent of eleven
full pages, forming a complete can-
tata of varied movement and con-
struction, we feel some regret at the
labour, and we will add, the talents
he has bestowed upon his undertak-
ing. In a mere musical point of view,
however, it is but justice to acknow-
ledge, that the composition is writ-
ten with particular care, with great
attention to the dark complexion of
the text, and in many parts with
taste and feeling, as well as with a
proper knowledge of the demands
and effects of good harmonic colour-
ing. The accompaniment often as-
sumes forms decidedly select and in-
teresting. We ought to add, that the
song is set for a bass voice, and not
for every voice of that class; for it
descends to F, and upon the whole
goes lower than the reach of the ge-
nerality of bass voices.
Divertimento for the Piano-forte,

composed, and dedicated to Miss

Ellis, by J. A. Moralt. Pr. 3s. 6d.

— (Goulding and Co.)

In the present divertimento Mr.
luLJII.Xo.Xl'IL

Moralt, who^e name we do not re-
collect to have before introduced to
our readers, has presented us with a
specimen of his Muse, which war-
rants a wish that we may soon hear
of him again. The divertimento,
besides a few introductory lines, con-
tains a march with trio and a polacca^
all in E b 5 and ail written tastefully,
and with an evident feeling for go<;d
melody. The march is distinguished
by spirited expression, and a proper
symmetrical keeping of its constitu-
ent parts; it has a very attractive
trio, and forms altogether a move-
ment of peculiar brilliancy. The
polacca ingratiates itself at the out-
set by the elegance of its motivo, and
proceeds in a succession of analogous
yet properly diversified digressions,
occasionally of a very active kind, to
a showy and impressive conclusion.
Brilliant Rondo for the Piano-forte >
on H. R. Bishops Air, " When in
disgrace," composed, and inscrib-
ed to Miss Caroline Oppenheimer,
by Ferd. Ries. Op. 101. No. III.
Pr. 3s. — (Goulding and Co.)
Among Mr. Ries's adaptations of
Mr. Bishop's melodies, this rondo
presents features of peculiar and
striking attraction. There are some
passages which will require careful
perusal to be seized in their proper
meaning, and rendered with their due
effect; but the attention bestowed
upon them will amply repay itself.
The introductory andante exhibits
several touches of that nervous ori-
ginality of thought which pervades,
more or less, all Mr. R.'s composi-
tions, and which betrays the favour-
ed disciple of Beethoven. In the
air which forms the subject of the
rondo, Mr. Bishop appears to have
had the manner of Rossini in pre-

m Q

290

MUSICAL RKVIfcW.

ponderating recollection : it is grace-
fully pointed in its expression, and
Mr. Ries has done his duty by it.
His fertile imagination has drawn
new ideas from the text at every step,
or has amplified it in a manner at
once novel and captivating.
" A lovers eyes can gaze an eagle
blind" a Cantata, sung by Mr.
Braham, at the Theatre Royal
Drury - lane, in " The Merry
Wives of Windsor" the Poetry
by Shahspeare ; the Music com-
posed by John Parry. Pr. 2s. —
(Goulding and Co.).
A portion of the text is allotted to
a recitativo of impressive and perti-
nent declamation; then follows an
andante in E b , |, the tasteful and
pathetic melody of which, together
with the apt transitions to other keys,
reflects great credit on the composer.
The accompaniment, as far as the
chords go, is effective and extremely
well imagined; but in point of form it
might have been a little more varied
and chequered, the piano-forte hav-
ing throughout six quavers per bar ;
a circumstance which creates a cer-
tain degree of sameness. An alle-
gretto forms the last movement: it is
spirited, regular, and melodious; but
the several ideas, appropriate and oc-
casionally showy as they are, cannot
claim the merit of originality. The
whole composition is in good style,
and likely to please the generality
of singers.

" Only love, my love, the more," a
Cambrian Ballad, sung by Mr.
Braham, written, composed, and
inscribed to Miss Morgan, by John
Parry. Pr. 2s. — (Goulding and
Co.)

A neat little symphony, a short
suitable recitativo, and a simple bal-
lad, in which novelty of melodic

ideas or harmonic combination seems
to have been less the object of the
composer, than a desire to adapt to
his own poetry a pleasing cantable
tune of innocent and tender expres-
sion.

" Isabel," the admired Pas de deux
danced by Miss Pat on and Miss
M. Tree in the Opera of " Na-
tive Land," arranged for the Pi-
ano-forte by G. Kiallmark. Pr.
2s. 6d. — (Goulding and Co.)
This is a theme with four or five
variations, and the subject consists of
a completely national and very beau-
tiful Spani»h air, " Isabel," which we
have seen in a collection of national
airs. The additional information of
this air having been footed in a pas
de deux by two of our principal fe-
male singers may, for ought we know,
constitute a feature of recommenda-
tion with some persons : a feature of
peculiarity it certainly is. Mr. K.'s
variations are agreeable, and of pro-
per diversity of character. The style
of that gentleman's writings is always
pleasing, smooth, neat, and correct.
Divertimento for the Piano-forte,
with an Accompaniment for the
Flute (ad lib.) in which is arrang-
ed Henry R. Bishops favourite
Ballad, " Sweet Maid," dedicated
to Miss Corbet, by T. A. Raw-
lings. Pr. 3s. 6d. — (Goulding
and Co.)

A good tasteful style, and an ade-
quate portion of flowing melody, are
the characteristics of most of Mr.
R.'s writings; and. these we find
strongly diffused over the present di-
vertimento, which, on that account,
and the general vein of elegant mu-
sical diction prevailing in it, we are
warranted in distinguishing from the
common productions of this class.
The second movement (spiritoso), for

ANCIENT AND MODERN MEXICO.

291

instance, has, in p. 2, two very pleas-
ing cantable subjects treated in the
best manner; and in p. 3 there is
good active passage-work of various
kinds. The next movement, p. 4,
propounds Mr. Bishop's sweet air, £,
in a classic way, and amplifies and
varies that theme with particular
neatness in p. 5. The same subject,
thrown into £ time, serves as an apt
motivo for the rondo in F, p. 6, in
which some well-devised bass evolu-
tions and appropriate digressions
attract attention, and which derives
a further feature of interest from the
representation of the subject in four
flats.

" My bonnie bark" a Song from the
Tales of Allan Cunningham, com-
posed, and dedicated to his Pupil,
Miss E. M. Richardson, by Mac-

donald Harris. Pr. Is. 6d.— (Birch-
all and Co.)

It required some judgment to
adapt a flowing melody to a text
which, like the productions of many
of our modern poets, labours under
metrical irregularities. These diffi-
culties Mr. H. has overcome with
tolerable success, and he has upon
the whole devised a suitable and well
connected air. We should have pre-
ferred the harmony of the symphony
to that adopted in the two first vocal
bars, the former being more mellow
and less chequered by variety of
chords. The temporary change of
tonic at " Spread thy plumes," &c.
is quite in its place, and affords pro-
per relief, and the accompaniment
throughout is adequate and effective.

FINE ARTS.

MR. BULLOCKS COLLECTIONS ILLUSTRATIVE
ANCIENT AND MODERN MEXICO.

Mn. Bullock, of the Egyptian
Hall, Piccadilly, to whom the pub-
lic have been so long indebted for a
progressive extension of their know-
ledge of natural history, by the ex-
cellent classification and rich illustra-
tion of its various objects in his ex-
tensive Exhibition, which was dis-
persed three or four years ago, has,
with " the leading passion" still
strong upon him, just returned from
exploring the regions of Spanish Ame-
rica, and imported from a soil teem-
ing, as Humboldt has described it,
with a productive power in the de-
velopment of Nature's works, une-
qualled in any other quarter of the
world, some of its rarest products in
the several departments of natural
history.

The scientific attention of Europe
has been long directed towards Spa-
nish America. The stores of Euro-
pean natural history, so long and so
ably explored, lost a considerable
share of popular attraction, and the
political changes in the new world
opened a good opportunity of exa-
mining the aboriginal condition of a
country and a people, of whom vo-
lumes have been written, many by the
ablest historians of their time, but
from the scantiness and often fabu-
lous materials then within their reach,
supplying but little, and that little too
often imperfect, of practical and use-
ful information upon the subject of
their research.

Of late years Baron de Humboldt,
so well known for his scientific pur-
Q q2

BULLOCK S COLLECTIONS ILLUSTRATIVE OF

suits, was the principal person who
had the honour of practically exa-
mining and elucidating the past and
present condition of Spanish Ameri-
ca. Mr. Bullock has followed, to illus-
trate, and still further develope, the
pregnant sources of information thus
practically brought to light. Instead
of theory and conjecture, we shall
now have real and palpable truths;
and as much of advantage may be
eventually expected from the direc-
tion thus given to public inquiry, as
of present gratification from the no-
vel and striking display which this
Exhibition affords. Be it also re-
membered, that this first effort is
made only by an enterprising indi-
vidual, and by his single means. The
antiquities of other nations have been
mostly explored under national pa-
tronage, or at the sole expense of
the state (as at Herculaneum and
Pompeii), and conducted with various
fortune for a long series of years.
This is, we repeat, a single effort by
a private individual, a first one too,
and achieved in the short space of
one year.

When we consider the wide-spread-
ing desolation, recorded in history,
of the destroyers of the Mexican
empire, our wonder is, that Mr. Bul-
lock has succeeded in obtaining so
many essential monuments of the
aboriginal people, rather than so
few. To make the attempt after so
many hopeless efforts was the act of
no ordinary individual, stimulated by
no common zeal for the promotion
of science and art. It was needless
for Mr. Bullock, after the experience
which the public have had of his in-
defatigable efforts in scientific pur-
suits, to have said, in allusion to his
voyage to Mexico, " that he seized
the first moment for such an enter-

prize with avidity, and prosecuted
it with unwearied solicitude and zeal.
All that he could gather to illustrate
the ancient capital, the ancient mo-
numents, the ancient religion, the an-
cient inscriptions, the ancient feel-
ings, and the ancient customs of the
inhabitants of Mexico, is here com-
bined in the best manner which his
judgment could devise." We would
have praised him for the attempt,
even had it been unattended with
success ; and some idea may be form-
ed of the present difficulty from the
past history, which, in the following
description, is literally accurate:

From the moment that the Spa-
niards achieved the conquest of
Mexico, " the conquerors employed
all the means in their power to efface
every vestige and recollection of what
had been from the minds of the sub-
jugated people, whom they treated
with every species of ignominy and
cruelty. Not a single building or
wall of this superb city remained ;
all was indiscriminately levelled to
the ground, and every trace of its
former splendour was destroyed by
the unsparing hand of the victor.
Such of the native colossal sculpture
as could not be burnt or broken, was
buried under the foundations of the
city ; and their valuable books, hiero-
glyphics, paintings, and historical
manuscripts, which could be disco-
vered either by art or force, were
indiscriminately committed to the
flames. In such quantities were these
consumed, that, in the great square
of Tezcuco, the seat of learning of
the Aztecks, they formed, when col-
lected together, an immense pyramid,
and were reduced to ashes in one
general blaze among the unavailing
regrets of the intelligent of that cit}',
whose inhabitants (how ill were they

ANCIKXT AND MODFIIN MEXTCO.

293

repaid!) had been the first friends of
the Spaniards. So great was the
pious zeal and exterminating fervour
of the first Bishop of Mexico, that
the most elaborate and beautiful
works in gold and silver were con-
signed to the melting-pot; and even
thevaluablegems and precious stones
which had the least sculpture on
their surface were reduced to dust,
although lame sums were offered for
their ransom. It ought, however, to
be stated, that in the century which
succeeded that of the conquest, se-
veral of the clergy sent from Spain,
regretting the destruction of the his-
toric writings, collected and preserv-
ed with much care the few that re-
mained, and even studied the lan-
guage, for the sake of expounding
them; and about eighty years since,
the Chevalier Boturini, a learned
Italian, visited Mexico for the pur-
pose of obtaining materials for a ge-
neral history of the country, and en-
thusiastically devoted his time and
fortune to the accomplishment of this
object. Having made himself mas-
ter of the language, he procured, at
a considerable expense of time and
research, the largest collection of
manuscripts and Azteck paintings
that had been made since the con-
quest; and prepared to return to
Europe with these treasures, which,
in his letter, he says, exceeded in
his estimation all the mines of gold
and silver in the country, when the
whole were seized and taken away
by the rapacious hands of the jea-
lous government, and himself sent
to Spain, where in a short time he
died broken-hearted, and the world
lost the valuable information he had
acquired at so much trouble and risk.
Of the five hundred maps, pictures,
manuscripts, and other valuable re- 1

mains, scarcely any are left but the
; i"e\v now so fortunately brought to
' England, with the permission of the
present government."

It is gratifying (and Mr. Bullock
! does ample justice to the fact) in
contemplating this new government,
' to find that the attainment of liberty,
after an arduous struggle against old
Spain, has been attended with a dis-
position on the part of the present
American authorities, to give every
facility to the promulgation of science
and a knowledge of the countrv,
which must lead to the most benefi-
cial results.

Mr. Bullock, availing himself of the
facilities afforded by the late politi-
cal revolutions of Spanish Amei-ica,
has, in addition to his collection of
works in natural history, been ena-
bled to collect many curiosities of
great interest, hitherto sealed from
European research. These consist
chieiiy of original specimens of an-
cient sculpture and paintings; of
casts of the enormous and monstrous
idols of the supreme temple; of the
grand altar, or sacrificial stone, on
which, according to the history of
the barbarous superstition of the
times, thousands of victims were an-
nually immolated ; of a cast of the
famous kalendar stone (recently dug
up and placed by the side of the ca-
thedral); of a model of the immense
pyramid of the Sun ; of the original
map of ancient Mexico made by or-
der of Montezuma for Cortes; of a
number of remarkable manuscripts
and picture-writings, and antiquities
of various kinds in the arts and manu-
factures of this aboriginal people.

As a companion to the Exhibition
of what Mr. Bullock calls " ancient
Mexican memorabilia" he prepared
on the spot a representation of Mex-

294

BULLOCKS COLLECTIONS ILLUSTRATIVE OF

ico in its present state. This is a
panoramic view of the city and beau-
tiful valley of that name, taken, dur-
ing the last year, by Mr. Bullock's
son, an ingenious youth, inheriting
the enterprising spirit of his father.
In the fore-ground is an Indian hut,
completely furnished, and inhabited
by the only Mexican Indian who has
visited Europe since the natives sent
by Cortes to the King of Spain. The
hut is surrounded by a garden, mo-
delled from the most extraordinary
trees, shrubs, flowers, fruits, and ve-
getables produced in the country,
besides many of the living plants,
and conveying a correct idea of all
the luxuriancy of a tropical climate.
In this room are also displayed the
most interesting objects belonging to
the natural history of Mexico ; con-
sisting of quadrupeds, birds, fishes,
reptiles, &c. finished with the closest
resemblance to nature. To these
are added a collection of minerals ;
a series of the models of the various
classes of the people of New Spain,
and specimens of their habitations,
costumes, manufactures, and useful
arts.

The Egyptian Hall has been fit-
ted up to convey some idea of the
temple of Mexico, and in it is dis-
posed whatever relates to the ancient
superstition of the country. The
first object that strikes the eye upon
entering the upper room, is the cast
of " the great serpent." It is conjec-
tured to have belonged to an idol, at
least seventy feet long, probably in
the great temple, and broken and
buried at the conquest. It is coiled
up in an irritated and erect position,
and is an adequate representative of
those horrid reptiles, which were, ac-
cording to the account of Bernal Dias
del Castillo, retained in the menage-

rie of Montezuma's palace, " to keep
company with their infernal gods ;
and when these animals yelled and
hissed, the palace seemed like h — 1
itself."

At the east end stands the cast of
the great idol, the Goddess of War,
before which human victims were sa-
crificed. This idol, with its pedes-
tal, is twelve feet high and four feet
wide, sculptured out of a solid piece
of bluish grey basalt, full of feldspar.
The form is partly human, and the
rest composed of rattlesnakes and
the tiger. The head is that of two
rattlesnakes united, the fangs horri-
bly ensanguined from the office as-
signed to them ; the body is deform-
ed, and the place of arms supplied
by the heads of rattlesnakes, placed
on square plinths, and united by
fringed ornaments. Around the waist
is a girdle, originally said to have
been covered with gold ; and beneath
it, and partly covering the deformed
feet, is a drapery entirely composed
of wreathed rattlesnakes; and on each
side is a winged termination of the
feathers of the vulture, with various
other emblems of the sanguinary rites
daily performed in honour of the
idol. Before the statue is placed
the cast of the great sacrificial stone
or altar of porphyry, ornamented on
the surface with the representation
of the Sun; and on the sides, with
other numerous groups of figures,
exhibiting the Mexican warriors drag-
ging their prisoners to sacrifice, with
various descriptive hieroglyphical
characters. There are also in front
of the same statue two of the original
incense-burners, sculptured in stone,
on pedestals: one represents a re-
cumbent human figure, supporting
the apparatus for fire ; the other is
an owl, of good workmanship.

ANCIENT AND MODERN MEXICO.

The great Calendar stone, the
cast of which meets the eye opposite
to the door, is well described as being
a fine specimen of Mexican work-
manship and knowledge, and hardly
yields in interest, whether we con-
template it as a record of ancient
art, or of mathematical science, to
the sundial of Phaedrus (the Paea-
nian), removed from Athens, and so
elaborately described by the Cheva-
lier Delambre, of the Royal Institute
of France, in Visconti's learned trea-
tise upon the Elgin marbles. The
Mexican Jcalendar is described as
having been found in the Plaza Ma-
jor, under the pavement on the site of
the Teocalli, or temple. It is formed
out of a heavy basaltic rock, is thirty-
six feet in circumference, and weighs
more than five tons. The Indians
call it, expressively enough, Monte-
zuma s watch. In the centre of this
immense tablet is represented the fi-
gure of the Sun, the rays in the di-
rection of the cardinal points ; around
the head the Seasons are represented
in hieroglyphics ; and in the next
circle, the name of the eighteen
Mexican months of twenty days, mak-
ing a remarkable coincidence with
our calculation of time. There are
also in this division of the Exhibition
a number of small idols, vases, and
other implements in use among the
aboriginal inhabitants, some of them
in very good preservation, and all
sufficiently defined to convey an idea
of the progress made by the inven-
tors in the arts necessary for the em-
bellishment and utility of life ; an al-
most miraculous preservation, when
we consider how the work of destruc-
tion kept pace with the progress of
the conquest in Mexico.

The operation of religion upon the
arts has long been felt in society, and

the idols of all ages may be said to
exemplify the sculptural taste of the
people and their proficiency in the
arts. It is elegantly observed by a
living critic, that " Greek art had
her infancy, but the Graces rocked
the cradle, and Love taught her to
speak." The same author observes,
that " the standard the Greeks erect-
ed, the canon they framed, fell not
from heaven; but as they fancied
themselves of divine origin, and re-
ligion was the first mover of their
art, it followed that they should en-
deavour to invest their authors with
the most perfect form ; and as man
possesses that exclusively, they were
led to a complete and intellectual
study of his elements and constitu-
tion: this, with their climate, which
allowed that form to grow, and to
shew itself to the greatest advantage,
with their civil and political institu-
tions, which established and encou-
raged exercises and manners best
calculated to develope its powers, are
the reasons (among others which the
author enumerates) why the Greeks
carried the art to a height, which no
subsequent time or race has been
able to rival, or even to approach."

Unfortunately for the Mexicans,
their hideous and horrid superstition
created objects, not " to be adored
for doing good," but " only feared
for proving mischievous." In the
language of the poet,

" So frightful are the forms the monster

takes,
So fierce the hissings of her speckled snakes,"

that the presence of such figures,
when influencing the passions and
affections, was calculated to debase
and deform, rather than to cultivate
and embellish any correct principles
of taste: so that the spirit of their
mythology was not much calculated

296

HILLOCKS COLLECTION'S ILLUSTRATIVE OF

to awaken either a nice perception
or feeling for the refined and refin-
ing qualities of art. An able philo-
sopher has said, " that at the same
time that men communicate their
ideas, they endeavour to communi-
cate their passions ;" and those of su-
perstition are " dark as Erebus." We
still, however, find in this collection
some small pieces of sculpture rather
in a style of elaborate workmanship.
In those mechanical arts adapted
for the purposes and mere ornaments
of common life, and in the solid and
substantial parts of architecture, con-
trary to the opinion entertained by
the historian Robertson, we find the
Mexicans to have attained a high
degree of perfection. Mr. Bullock
discovered the foundations of exten-
sive edifices, constructed according
to regular rule, and evidently in a
style of execution adapted for ele-
gance and convenience: the model
of one in this Exhibition demonstrates
that fact. The description given by
Cortes of Montezuma's court and ca-
pital, is that of a people, however
degraded by superstition, still far ad-
vanced in the arts of civilization,
ruled by a regular and equitable
government, supported by no small
degree of pomp : they had their gar-
dens of great extent, their baths of
cut stone, their pavilions and thea-
tres ; their articles of dress and orna-
ment composed of jewels and the pre-
cious metals ; their manufactures of
feathers, mantles, skins dressed and
undressed, &c. &c; and when we
bear in mind, that some of their
squares were compared by the inva-
ders to those of Cordova, a city at
that time not entirely divested of the
magnificent ruins of those temples
and palaces with which the Moors
had overshadowed the Guadalquiver,

we must believe that the arclutecture
and arrangement of the great Mexi-
can capital presented nothing of what
old Evelyn would call " the trifling
of Goths and barbarians." The
best accounts of ancient monuments,
when conveyed by written descrip-
tion, are often imperfect and uncer-
tain ; but when, as in this Exhibition,
they are illustrated by authentic frag-
ments, or verisimilitudes of the ori-
ginal, the demonstration becomes
complete and conclusive.

The maps and manuscripts, on
paper of maguey, or prepared deer-
skins, in the Egyptian Hall, are cu-
rious objects of antiquarian exami-
nation; though in some parts mutilat-
ed and decayed, yet still an abun-
! dance of the original material remains
to preserve and explain the mean-
ing. Mr. Bullock's account of this
part of the collection deserves to be
told in his own words :

" Previous to the discovery of
America, and the arrival of Cortes
in Mexico, the inhabitants possessed
the art of hieroglyphic painting or
writing; and on the landing of the
Spaniards, artists were dispatched
from Mexico to the coast to deli-
neate them, their ships, horses, and
whatever appeared curious. These
were rudely executed on large sheets
of paper, and forwarded to Mexico,
for the information of the sovereign*;
and in the same manner, the whole
learning of the people was at that time
preserved. After the conquest, every
document of this description that

* Lord Kaimes, in his article upon arts,
corroborates what is mentioned in the
catalogue : for he says, " Figures, com-
posed of painted feathers, were used in
Mexico to express ideas; and by such
figures Montezuma received intelligence
of the Spanish invasion."

ANCfBtfT AND MOD MX IUFXICO.

297

could be procured was destroyed,
and very few have readied our time.
The Baron Humboldt brought some
fragments, which he has published;
but so rare are these Azteck MSS.
that none of the museums or libra-
ries of Paris or London possess one.
Mr. Bullock was, however, so fortu-
nate as to discover several, and by the
permission of the Mexican govern-
ment allowed to bring them to this
country, on the express condition of
their being returned at the close of
the Exhibition."

In the map of ancient Mexico, the
numerous streets, canals, and tem-
ples are accurately laid down and
named. It is the same which is thus
described in the catalogue of the
unfortunate Boturini: " An original
map, on India paper, as large as a
sheet. It shews the situation of the
said imperial city, which (as I sup-
pose) was beautified or improved in
the reign of Tzcohuatl, with the royal
canals, and the particulars of each
district and house. It appeared to
me that Mexico had, in the time of
its barbarism, a plan made in the
same manner as Venice had. This
map is torn in the middle, and repre-
sents the barbarous or gentile kings,
as well as the Christian casiques, who
governed the said city."

There are many other smaller plans,
maps, and pictures in this Exhibition.
Some of these hieroglyphics appear
to be drawn in the very infancy of
art; they are mere skiagrams, what
Mr. Fuseli would call " simple out-
lines of a shade," without any pre-
tensions to any other addition of
character or feature, than what the
profile of the object thus delineated
could afford. Others are somewhat
better finished. Among the paint-
Vol. III. No. XVII.

ings which have found their way into
Europe from Mexico, we look in
vain for any examples of the descrip-
tion given by one of the conquerors
of Montezuma of the merits of three
Indian artists of his time (Marcos de
Aquino, Juan de la Cruz, and Cres-
pillo), " who, if they had lived with
Apelles in ancient times, or were
compared with Michael Angelo or
Berruguete in modern times, would
not be held inferior to them." They
are, however, curious, and in some
of the parts not deficient in vigorous
conception.

A close examination of the prin-
cipal antiquities in this Exhibition is
calculated to strengthen the tradi-
tional hypothesis, that the Mexicans
and Tartars had one common origin.
We forget where we have read the
history of the tradition which re-
cords, that for ages the Mexicans
carefully preserved colossal figures
of a Tartar man and woman in their
appropriate costume, from whom
they said their race had sprung, and
who had passed from them " over
the waters," leaving their spirit to
hover over Mexico. This is a cu-
rious theme of speculation, and is
thus ingeniously alluded to in Mr.
Bullock's catalogue :

" In directing attention to any of
these objects, further than the enu-
meration and description would sug-
gest, it may be allowed to point out the
close and striking resemblance which
exists between the antiquities of
Mexico and Egypt. The mighty
pyramid, the hieroglyphic writing,
the sculptured stone, are almost alike;
and their kindred origin can hardly
be doubted. Here examination and
comparison will probably illustrate
the most ancient records of the world.
R ii

298

BULLOCKS COLLECTIONS ILLUSTKATIVK OF MEXICO.

Again, the worship of the Mexicans
appears to have been more monstrous
and bloody than thatof the Egyptians,
or rather, parallel to that of the Bud-
hist and the Hindoo. The temple
and cavern and holy mountain differ
little from the dome of Jaggernhaut,
and the cave of Elephanta or Ellora,
and the high-place of Oriental sacred-
ness; while the enormous serpent-god
devouring human victims, and other
uncouth shapes to which adorations
were paid, carry the resemblance even
to minute details, and strengthen the
hypothesis of a similar origin." This
pregnant theme we must, however,
leave to more professed antiquarians
and philosophers, and pass to the
more lively and glittering Exhibition
of modern Mexico, which forms the
ground-floor gallery of the Egyptian
Hall.

Here, after surveying the gloomy
and terrific emblems of a sad and
devouring superstition, which de-
grades the race of man, we are intro-
duced to the cheering and gladden-
ing scene which animates us, when

" We look from nature up to nature's God."

We have here placed before us the
beautiful and enchanting prospect of
Mexico as it is; its mountains, its
palaces, its valley, lakes, and rich
natural scenery, refreshed and sha-
dowed into speckling tints by the
variety of tropical plants with which
the climate abounds. The aloe,
the cactus, the palm, " the strange
shapes of the vegetation, the uncouth
stems bursting from the earth like
columns of architecture, the mixture
of the grotesque form and the rich
flower, the rugged and barren soil
contrasted with its gigantic produce,
and the few animals introduced to
give character to the whole, are rea-
lity." In front is the lightly con-

structed habitation of a Mexican In-
dian, who was prevailed upon by
Mr. Bullock to accompany him to
this country. The catalogue says,
that " the slight cane erection and
thatch of palm-leaves (of which this
hut is constructed) are all that the
| delicious clime requires for the abode
and protection of man. Simple and
contented, his wants are evidently
few. A net, or two or three mats,
as many neatly plaited wicker or
straw baskets, and half a dozen ves-
sels of earthen ware, complete his
scanty furniture; and his cage-like
abode is encumbered with nothing
else, except perhaps a large gourd
or two, and his curious cloak of
leaves, as ample a covering from the
wet as any water-proof which Bri-
tish ingenuity could export to Mex-
ico.

Notwithstanding the truth of muc3i
that is here said of " this delicious
clime,"

" Where lawns extend that scorn Arcadiam

pride,
And brighter streams than fam'd Hydaspis

glide,"
we must not forget the dreadful con-
vulsions of nature which have at such
frequent intervals in history ragedi
and depopulated its cities, and doubt-
less furnished another cause, if that
were wanting after the Vandalism of
the Spaniards, for the difficulties of
discovering many of the great land-
marks of art, such as they were,
which once existed in those regions,
and so many of which have been
now recovered (at least for Europe)
through the enterprize of Mr. Bul-
lock.

We have not room to enumerate
the beautiful objects which are dis-
played in the branch of the Exhibi-
tion appropriated to the productions,
natural and artificial, of modern Mex-

COOKE S EXHIBITION OF DRAWINGS.

299

ico. They consist of a representa-
tion in miniature of every thing which
is to be seen in the streets of that me-
tropolis; whilst the eye, wandering
around the room, is delighted with
the richness and variety of the na-
tural productions, the brilliancy of
plumage of the birds (the collection
of humming birds is exquisite), and
the beauty and resplendent hues of
the fishes and marine productions.

There are also two large cases of mi-
nerals.

An Exhibition composed as this
is, cannot fail to be highly useful to
the public, and we should hope pro-
fitable to the proprietor, to whose
enterprizing spirit in the promotion
of every thing connected with the
study of natural history and antiqui-
ties we are indebted for its formation..

COOKE'S EXHIBITION OF DRAWINGS.

Mr. Cooke of Soho-square has
just opened his gallery of drawings
for the season, and a splendid re-
presentation it conveys of the high
and varied qualifications of the Bri-
tish school. The choice of subjects
is admirable, and the collection is
decidedly superior to any former Ex-
hibition of works in this department
of art. We cannot too highly praise
the noble and distinguished proprie-
tors of many of these works, for the
readiness with which they are repre-
sented as lending their aid to the
formation of this valuable Exhibition.
We have here before us a fine illus-
tration of the remark of a very com-
petent judge, that "under disadvan-
tages of national neglect and public
apathy, which were never before sur-
mounted in any country, the English
school has grown and ripened within
the reign of his Majesty to a degree
of strength and maturity which may
fairly challenge comparison with the
past state of art in this country, and
the present state of art in every other
country of Europe."

We find in this gallery Mr. Mul-
ready's admirable pieture, called (fi-
guratively enough) the Wolf and the
Lamb, from the King's collection.
His Majesty, who has ever shewn

himself a munificent patron of the
fine arts, has been graciously pleased
to permit an engraving (which is now
executing in the line manner by Mr.
J. H. Robinson) to be made from this
excellent picture, in aid of the Art-
ists' Fund. The beneficent intention
of his Majesty will, we have no doubt,
be carried into complete effect, not
only in the execution of the engrav-
ing, but in the eventual advantage
to the fund for which it has been so
graciously presented.

In the catalogue of artists (living
and deceased), whose drawings en-
rich Mr. Cooke's Exhibition, we find
the names of the following: Sir Tho-
mas Lawrence, P. R. A. principal
painter in ordinary to his Majesty,
&e. &c; J. M. W. Turner, R. A.;
John Jackson, R. A.; Thomas Stot-
hard, R.A.; David Wilkie, R.A.;
Richard Wcstall, R.A.; William
Owen, R. A. ; Abraham Cooper,
R. A.; William Collins, R. A.; Wil-
liam Daniel!, R. A. ; G. Jones, R. A.;
T. Gainsborough, R. A.; R. Wilson,
R. A.; William Hamilton, R. A.;
Paul Sandby, R. A.; G. B. Cipria-
ni, II. A; F. Bartolozzi, R. A.; C.
R. Leslie, A. It. A.; H. Edridge,
A.R.A.; and those of Girtin, Dewint,
Havell, Dighton, S. W. Reynolds,
R k 2

300

COOKE S EXHIBITION OF DRAWINGS.

Cristall, Brockedon, Wilkin, Uwins,
Hills, Robertson, Green, Penry Wil-
liams, Clennell, Cozens, Miss Byrne,
Mrs. Green, George Ward, More-
land, Martin Ward, Mrs. Pope, Mrs.
Dighton, Cheesman, Kirk, &e. A
noble school of study is presented
by the works of many of these emi-
nent men; these may be truly called
the accumulated stores of invention,
which enable the young student to
acquire sufficient materials for his
own mind to work with, after con-
templating the different excellencies
which are dispersed through the pro-
ductions of his distinguished prede-
cessors.

At the head of the contributors
in the department of portraiture of
course stands the President of the
Royal Academy, who has sent two
beautiful portraits: they are,
Portrait of a young Lady of Rank
— Studies of Children. — Sir Tho-
mas Lawrence, P. R. A.
The first is an exquisite portrait
for delicacy and softness of expres-
sion ; the air of the head, " that in-
cidental air of fashion," which was
said to be one of Sir Joshua Rey-
nolds's chief merits, is here beauti-
fully depicted. The Studies of Chil-
dren is a drawing also remarkable
for all the soft and playful traits of
natural expression.

In landscape Mr. Turner stands
also pre-eminent. He is a large con-
tributor to this gallery, having fur-
nished no less than seventeen draw-

ings.

Twilight, Smugglers off Folk stone
fishing up smuggled Gin — J. M.
W. Turner, R. A.
is a fine marine production. There
is a richness, a force of expression,
and a bold tone of nature in every

part of this drawing, which make it
very valuable. The Rialto, the
View of Rome, and the smaller draw-
ings of Italian scenery, are also very
beautiful. The coast views are al-
ready well known, from their multi-
plication by engravings, and deserv-
edly sustain the reputation of an
eminent professor of art.
The Vintage. — T. Stothard, R. A.

Mr. Stothard is also a numerous
contributor to the formation of this
collection. The Vintage is a rich
and beautiful drawing, full of exqui-
site poetical attraction. The sub-
jects from the Scottish novels are
full of humorous traits of individual
character, and touched with great
animation and variety. The fertility
of this artist's invention is equalled
by the precision of his execution in
detail.
Fitzjames and Ellen landing on the

Isle (from the Lady of the Lake.)

— R. Westall, R. A.

There is feeling and expression
in this drawing, and a good deal of
taste in the execution. A few bright-
er tints of colour might have been
introduced with advantage. His
Margaret of Anjou is a beautiful
composition.

Landscape, after Wilson. —
W. Havell.

This copy is clever in the land-
scape part, but deteriorated in the
figures, which are rather clumsy.
The mountain scenery of the Kes-
wick Lake, by the same artist, is
very well finished.
Dolbaddern Castle, North Wales

— Copley Fielding,
represents bold scenery, with cha-
racteristic truth.
Head of a Boy in a Turkish Dress,

copied from the Picture painted

COOKE S EXHIBITION OF DRAWINGS.

.301

by Sir Joshua Reynolds soon af-
ter his return from Italy. — II.
Edridge, R. A.

This is a well-finished copy of the
first work of Sir Joshua Reynolds
which announced his departure from
the stifFand monotonous style of paint-
ing which he found in England. The
original is a fine and rich paint-
ing, in the style of Rembrandt. An
anecdote worth mentioning is related
of this very picture. When Hudson,
who had been Reynolds's first mas-
ter, saw it, and could discover no
traces of his own dry and beaten
manner left in the style or handling
of his former pupil, he exclaimed,

" By , Reynolds, you don't paint

so well as when you left England."

This artist's Sterne's Maria is also a

well executed copy. His Rouen

Scenery, though with a good deal

of executive merit, is too bright.

Chief of a German Banditti dodged

to his Retreat by his Pursuers. —

D. Dighton, Military Painter to

his Majesty.

This drawing is not deficient in for-
cible and vivid expression. East-
lake has, however, made us fastidious
in the portraiture of such subjects.
View of a Mud Fort at Lasgird,
near Simnoon, in Khorassan. — J.
B. Eraser, Esq.

There is a good deal of merit in
this drawing, and the novelty of the
scenery adds to the attraction.
Peasant - Girl returning from the
Wood. — J. Cristall.
The figure is plain, simple, and
unaffected, and the general charac-
ter of the drawing creditable to the
artist, j

The Scullions at the Duke's Castle
threatening Sancho with the Ce-
remony of Shaving — The Scho-
lars first Acquaintance with the

Devil (Diable boiteux). — F.

Uwins.

Mr. Uwins has several clever draw-
ings in this Exhibition. Those we
have named are good specimens of
his conception of comic character.
The Country Girl at Ludlams Cave
is also an excellent drawing.
Chateau de Sarra, Valley of Aosle.
— Major Cockburn.

It is always gratifying to see the
sword sheathed for the pencil, and
the soft and soothing study of the
fine arts supersede the terror and
disheartening of arms. This gallant
officer possesses a good deal of taste
in his compositions, and great expert-
ness in the mechanical facilities of
the pencil. He has several pictu-
resque pieces in this collection, which
are drawn in a very pleasing and
creditable style.
A Dog and Rabbit. — Martin Ward.

A very clever drawing; the heads
particularly well executed.
St. Germans Abbey: a Sketch. —
S. W. Reynolds.

The architectural parts are well
defined, and the porch in particular
well drawn.

View from Windcliff, Monmouth-
shire.— Penry Williams.

This is a beautiful landscape; the
perspective in the back-ground, the
aerial buoyancy of the clouds, the
general effect, finely managed, and
attesting the hand of a master.
Mare and Foal. — A. Cooper.

A small drawing, possessing a good

deal of the merit of this artist in the

department of animal-painting. The

Dead Birds are capital.

Study from Nature at Embly. —

W. Owen, R. A.

A good landscape, in a light and
pleasing style of execution.
Maria Graxie, the Wife of a Bri-

302

COOKKS EXHIBITION OF DRAWINGS.

gand Chief of Sonnini in Italy. —
W. Brockedon.
A Corn-Field — Stacking Barley. —
P. Dewint.
These are two very pretty draw-
ings, and may be almost said to
breathe the air of nature.
The ominous Incident at the Mer-
maidens Fountain. — C. R. Les-
lie, A.R.A.

This artist has several designs from
the Scottish novels in this Exhibi-
tion; they are very well drawn, and
full of characteristic and animated
■expression.

Portrait of a Gentleman in a Dutch
Dress.— D. Wilkie, R.A.
A spirited and well-drawn portrait.

DaMias. — Mrs. Pope.
A drawing displaying considerable
taste.

Portrait of Charles I. from Van-
dyke's celebrated Picture from
which the Bust was executed. —
Wilkin.

This is taken from the picture of
the three views of King Charles's
face, and is a faithful copy. There
are good engravings from it in the
Exhibition-rooms.

Dogs. — G. Morland.
A fine drawing by poor Morland
of his family of dogs; the different
attitudes and varieties of expression
are very well depicted.

Ploughing. — R. Hills.
This is a very good drawing; the
horses possess the truth of nature.

There are also in this collection,
and we have to express our regret
for being unable to notice them in
the detail which some of their me-
rits would admit and justify, many ex-
cellent drawings by Clennell, Green,
Mrs. Dighton, J. Jackson, R. A.
Collins, R. A. Miss Byrne, Mrs.
Green, Miss Reynolds, Alexander,

Smith, Robertson, and several others,
whose works deserve commendation.

The middle room contains two
Moonlights by the late amiable and
eminent artist Gainsborough, and a
Landscape with Cows. These ex-
traordinary works are exhibited by
artificial light, and are an extraordi-
nary imitation of nature aided by
optical delusion. The paintings are
not more than ten or twelve inches
square, and yet by the arrangement
of the optical medium through which
they are viewed, they appear as large
as the natural objects they are intend-
ed to represent. They were painted
by the artist for his own gratification
and the amusement of his friends,
and were bequeathed to his daugh-
ter, from whom the present proprie-
tor, Dr. Monro, purchased them.
The following is the description from
the catalogue, which we insert, as
these pictures are likely to furnish
peculiar attraction in this Exhibition,
and deserve the commendation be-
stowed upon them:

1. The Cottage; representing a
most powerful effect of fire-light in
the interior. The. artist has given
considerable interest to this subject
by introducing the cottager opening
the door: the contrast between the
light of the cottage and that of the
moon excites the most pleasing asso-
ciations in the mind, and never fails
to produce an instantaneous effect of
pleasure and approbation.

2d. Landscape and Cows : a Morn-
ing Scene. The artist has evinced
in this subject a fine feeling for the
beauties of simple nature: the colour,
depth, and freedom of penciling
have never been surpassed in any of
the works of this eminent landscape-
painter.

3. A Moonlight Scene. The moon

COOK!'. S EXHIBITION OF DRAWINGS,

503

has just risen above the hills, and is
brilliantly reflected in the rippling
stream. A few sheep scattered in
the fore-ground add great beauty to
the stillness of the scene. This ex-
quisite work is so finely conceived as
to render it doubtful which of the
two Moonlights deserves the prefer-
ence in public estimation.

We cannot contemplate the meed
of living merit which our present
artists have so justly acquired, and
turn to the excellence of departed
worth, without exclaiming, in the
language of the poet,

" Yet while exulting o'er each bold essay
Of British genius brightening' into flay,
Iu ton (1 remembrance flows the grateful tear,
To think what stars have fallen from our
sphere."

We have here before us, among
the drawings of our own masters,
the long-neglected but since admit-
ted tests of their merits, who early
struggled to establish an English
school, who, through all the vicissi-
tudes of neglect and contumely, amid
dignity and despair, appealed to
those who ought to have been the
patrons of art, in the patriotic lan-
guage of honest feeling, to

*' Prize not the skill of foreign realms alone,
Nor think it taste to stigmatize yc-ur own ;
With generous bias lean to British art,
Artd rather wrong your judgment than your
heart."

How long that appeal was made in
vain, we have recorded in the same
poet's expressive lines :

" Lo! pensive, leaning o'er the illumined

page,
Where History meditates the madu'ning age,
And mourns her Mortimer; while, kind too

late,
Relenting Fortune weeps o'er Wilson's fate,
Remorseful owns her blindness, and to Fame
Consigns with sorrow his illustrious name."

We nave in this Exhibition seve-
ral of Wilson's drawings. This art-
ist, in the re-action of neglect, was
said to unite " the composition of
Claude with the execution of Pous-
sin." As neglect was carried in the
first instance to extremes with this
high-minded and ill-recpaited artist,
so in the end was praise too indiscri-
minately applied. He was, however,
a great ornament to his profession,
the first artist in England who, as a
landscape-painter, rivalled, and in ma-
ny parts surpassed, the great conti-
nental artists who had superseded!
him, but who died in the unprofit-
able retirement of the librarianship
of the Royal Academy.

Besides Wilson's, we have here
drawings of the late W. Hamilton,
R. A.; T. Girtin, who never was, but
who nevertheless deserved to have
been, a royal academician; H. Tre-
sham, K.A., G. B. Cipriani, R, A.,
and several other original members
of the old school of English artists.
There are several spirited drawings
of the late H. Munro, whose prema-
ture loss to the arts has been so de-
servedly deplored.

Added to these specimens of the
school of British art, there is a ve-
ry full collection of drawings by the
old foreign masters. In the list are
the names of Michael Angelo, Ra-
phael, Titian, Rembrandt, Vandyke,
Rubens, Claude, Correggio, Parme-
giano, Cuyp, and a considerable num-
ber of the most eminent Italian, Fle-
mish, and Dutch painters.

The whole collection is rich and
attractive, and reflects the highest
credit upon the artist under whose
direction this Exhibition has been
arranged.

304

SOCIETY OF BRITISH ARTISTS.

A ni;av Society under this name
has been formed for the annual ex-
hibition and sale of the works of liv-
ing artists of the united kingdom.
The catalogue gives the following
explanation of the motives which led
to its formation:

The great increase in the number
of artists since the foundation of the
Royal Academy by our late revered
Monarch, having rendered the rooms
of that valuable national school ina-
dequate as a place of exhibition for
the numerous works of art annually
sent for that purpose; and the Bri-
tish Institution (the only public place
of sale) closing its exhibitions of
modern art early in April, in order
to diffuse a more general taste for
the fine arts by an annual display of
the best works of the old masters, a
large body of artists have been in-
duced, under these circumstances, to
form themselves into a society for the
erection of an Extensive Gallery
for the Annual Exhibition and Sale
of the Works of Living Artists of
the United Kingdom^ in the various
branches of painting (in oil and wa-
ter colours), sculpture, architecture,
and engraving, at the period when
the tasteful and opulent are usually
resident in the metropolis; viz. dur-
ing the months of April, May, June,
and July.

The regulations are upon the most
liberal principles. All artists of me-
rit in the empire have an opportuni-
ty of displaying their works so as to
be fairly seen and appreciated by the
public, and they are also eligible as
members of the society.

The gallery of this society is en-
tered by a handsome Doric facade in
Suffolk-street, Pall -Mall East, and

consists of a suite of six rooms, well
proportioned, and adapted to the va-
rious departments of art. The north-
east room is appropriated to sculp-
ture ; the south-west to architecture,
drawings, miniature, and enamels ;
and the south-east to engravings.
As this Exhibition was only formed
at the close of the month, when our
Number was prepared for press, we
can only on the present occasion give
a cursory sketch of the various works
with which it abounds, and which
are highly creditable to the labours
of the artists who have contributed
to its formation. The old hospitable
English feeling marked the opening
of the gallery with an elegant dinner.
Mr. Heaphy, the president of the so-
ciety, was in the chair. His Royal
Highness the Duke of Sussex ho-
noured the company with his pre-
sence; and Mr. Hart Davis, M. P.,
Mr. Lambton, M. P., the Hon. Doug-
las Kinnaird, Lieutenant-GeneralSir
Ronald Fergusson, Mr. Thomas
Campbell, and many other gentlemen
who take an active interest in the
promotion of the fine arts, Mrere
anions: the ouests assembled at this
auspicious festival. His royal high-
ness, in returning thanks to the com-
pany for drinking his health, observ-
ed that he felt a very warm interest
in the success of the society. He
thought that the Royal Academy, so
far from feeling any jealousy with re-
spect to the present society, ought to
look upon it with satisfaction and
pride, because it had in some manner
emanated from itself. He had no
doubt, that if the objects of the socie-
ty were fairly represented in that
quarter whence honour and distinc-
tion were derived, it would receive

SOCIETY OF BRITISH ARTISTS.

,305

all the encouragement to which it
was so justly entitled. Long, he
hoped, would the institution conti-
nue to flourish ; and he felt proud in
being the first to propose, " Prospe-
rity to the Society of British Artists!"

The private view of the Exhibi-
tion, notwithstanding a very unfa-
vourable state of weather, was very
fashionably attended, and the pro-
spects of the society opened in the
most cheering manner, many pictures
having been sold at that first visit.

Of the industry of our artists some
estimate may be formed when we
state, that the great room contains
224 works, the north-west room 98,
the north-east (sculpture) 39, the
south-west (drawings, &c.) 219, the
south-east (engravings), 173; making
a total number of 753 works in this
Exhibition.

The collection is so miscellaneous,
that the most severe peculiarity of
taste must here find an abundant
gratification. The portraits are nu-
merous, and in general good : they
are principally by Mr. Northcote,
R. A., Mr. Lonsdale, Mr. T. C.
Thompson, Mr. T. Heaphy, and
other artists well known in that pro-
lific department of the fine arts.

The Exhibition is crowded with
historical, poetical, and landscape
subjects. Immediately upon enter-
ing the principal room, the eye is ar-
rested by

The Seventh Plague in Egypt. — J.
Martin.

This subject is taken from the 9th
chapter of Exodus, 22d, 23d, 24th,
and 26th verses, which describes,
that on the preordained signal of
Moses, the Lord poured down hail
on all the land of Egypt, " upon man
and upon beast, and upon every herb

Vol. III. No. XVI T.

of the field, and thunder and hail,
and the fire ran along upon the
ground, excepting only in the land
of Goshen, where the children of
Israel were, was there no hail." The
compositions of this artist are mostly
conceived in a style of grandeur
which is calculated to excite ad-
miration ; but his execution, and the
principal obj ects which he introduces,
are nearly the same throughout all
his historical pictures, and lose by
repetition, in one form or another,
much of their original force. His air
is sulphureous, and his shadows me-
tallic; the perspective of his archi-
tecture is always fine, and the mate-
rial, in accordance with his general
tone of colouring, as well as with his-
toric truth, is of porphyry. But we
confess, that notwithstanding the tri-
bute we have uniformly paid, and are
still disposed to pay to the genius of
this young artist, we cannot recom-
mend a perseverance in his example :
his imagination is evidently of the
most vivid kind, but it runs the risk
of being spoiled by the indulgence
of a style of his own creation, which
resorts too little to nature for assist-
ance in details. Sir Joshua Reynolds,
when speaking in one of his lectures
upon genius, has forcibly and truly
urged, that though there are no
rules for genius, yet that it always
in its practical development depends
for success upon the proportion of
our attention which we devote to the
observation of the works of nature,
to our skill in selecting, to our care in
digesting, methodizing, and compar-
ing them: he adds, " this great ideal
perfection and beauty are not to be
sought in the heavens, but upon the
earth. They are about us, and up-
on every side of us." What, we ask,

s 4

306

SOCIETY OF BIUTISH ARTISTS.

have we about us, and upon every
side of us, like the clouds and skies,
and mountains and verdure, in some
of Mr. Martin's pictures ? Some of
this artist's mezzotinto designs are
vigorous and beautiful.
Silenus intoxicated and moral, re-
proving Bacchus and Ariadne on
their lazy and irregular Lives. —
B.R.IIaydon.

This poetical subject is composed
with great spirit: the figures are full
of character, and some of them fine-
ly graceful and buoyant; the colour-
ing is well executed.
Ullswater, Cumberland, looking to-
wards Patterdale. — T. C. Hof-
land.

" Hail to thy beams, O Sun ! for this display.

*************

Delicious Grasmere's calm retreat,
And stately Windermere, 'I greet,
And Keswick's sweet fantastic vale ;
But let her Naiads yield to thee,
And lowly bend the subject knee,
Imperial lake of Patrick's dale." —

CUMBERLAND.

Mr. Ilofland's landscapes in this
Exhibition are numerous, and in his
best style. The beautiful scenery of
Ullswater, not the grandest, but af-
fording the most calm and agreeable
coup - doeil of our northern lake
views, is here finely touched, and in
a clear and bright tone.
The Vale of Lonsdale. — W. Linton.

The rich and finely contrasted sce-
nery of this vale, parts of which
have been so often sketched by the
landscape-painter, is here represent-
ed by Mr. Linton with considerable
skill and taste. The fore-ground is
beautifully finished, the verdure has
the freshness of nature; the broken
and decayed trees are very well
painted.

Narcissus — J. Glover,
is another landscape executed on

a large scale, like the two preceding :
there is a poetical repose and sere-
nity in this composition which harmo-
nize finely with the subject. His
other works in this gallery are also
full of merit.

" Leap-year Ladies, or the Bird of
Paradise." — The Game of Put.
— T. Heaphy.

Mr. Heaphy, the president of this
society, has contributed several pic-
tures : those descriptive of scenes in
familiar life are composed with great
vivacity and humour. The card-
playing scene is very rich, and full of
variety and bustle: the colouring is
lively and agreeable.

The Widow— H. Richter.
This indeed is not a Hindoo wi-
dow, although she is evidently pre-
paring, with the most composed and
happy resignation, to burn her sa-
bles. The archness of expression in
the figures, principal and auxiliary,
is peculiarly appropriate for the ex-
pression of one who was doomed
" to mimic sorrow when the heart's
not sad." The gay colouring corre-
sponds well with the change of cha-
racter. There is a good deal of me-
rit in this picture.

We regret that our limits, on the
eve of going to press, confine us to a
cursory sketch of some of the prin-
cipal pictures, and in the bustle of a
first and hasty glance, we are aware
we must have overlooked a number
of works which deserve attention.
Besides the pictures we have alluded
to, Mr. P. E. Stroehling has some
well-finished scriptural subjects ; Mr.
Nasmyth has some landscapes in his
calm and soft tone of colouring; Mr.
Stanfield's Antwerp, Mr. and the
Misses Ross's compositions are full of
merit and sweet tints of colouring.
Miss Gouldsmith's landscapes are al-

GllLCIAN GALLKUY.

.107

ways pleasing, from the tone of na-
ture which pervades them. Lady
Bell has some very tasteful spe- |
cimens of her skill; Mr. Stevens's
and Mr. Taylor's Birds are well j
drawn; Mr. G. Vincent's landscapes ;
are excellent; Mr. Christmas's Una
is very poetical; Mr. Burnet's Cattle \
and Figures is a clear and well-fi- !
nished painting; Mr. Rippengille's
Cross-examining the Witness is an
excellent peep in panoramic minia- 1
ture into the bustle and diversified I
character of a county-court during
the sittings for business; Mr. Stark's
landscapes are invariably beautiful;
Mr. Ingalton has some good views j
near Windsor; Mr. Carse's Valentine \
is comic: but we must break off re- j
luctantly from this department of the
Exhibition.

In sculpture, the principal contri- \
butors for busts are Mr. Rossi, Mr. :
Garrard, Mr. Scoular (who has also
an historical group very well execut- {
ed), Mr. Henning (whohas also some
good designs), Mr. Gahagan, and
two or three other artists. Mr. C.
Rossi, R. A. has a good model for a
statue of the late Mr. Benjamin
West, to be placed, according to the
catalogue, in St. Paul's Cathedral.
It is a full-length, in a modern dress, l
the features bearing an exact resem- ;
blance to those of the venerable ori- '

ginal; and the attitude also possess-
ing the same true character.

We have not space to notice in our
present Number the drawings, en-
gravings, miniatures, and enamels ;
but we can venture, from our hasty
glance, to recommend them to pub-
lic attention. Many of them are exe-
cuted by young artists, who are like-
ly, from these specimens, to become
more generally known, and if patron-
age attend merit, more fully appre-
ciated by the opportunity thus af-
forded them by this society of attract-
ing the notice of the lovers of the
fine arts. It is gratifying to see the
arts thus becoming daily more wide-
ly diffused ; for we are not of the
number who are afraid, that the
general desire for public exhibitions
will multiply painters, rather than ad-
vance the real station of the gra-
phic art. We apprehend that the
public are not so impassioned for the
arts as to purchase pictures merely
because they are painted : the ars de-
li neandi will still remain in the hands
of those who have the principal me-
rit ; and those who are, according to
Shakspeare's designation of medio-
crity, " of no mark or likelihood," must
still be content to retain their own
pictures for their pains; a sufficient
discouragement for the growth of im-
becility.

GRECIAN GALLERY.

An Exhibition-room under this
name has just been opened in the
Haymarket, for the purpose of ex-
hibiting the Chevalier van Brce's
large picture of the Sacrifice of the
Virgins. The chevalier is histori-
cal portrait-painter to the King of
Holland. This picture measures 27
feet by 20, and is said to have been

painted expressly for the late Em-
press Josephine, for the grand galle-
ry of the palace of Fontainbleau. It
represents the celebrated classical
story of the Athenian victims destin-
ed to be devoured by the monster
Minotaur, and Theseus offeringhim-
self as their deliverer; and is a very
fine composition of an eminent foreign
S s U

301}

LONDON FASHIONS.

artist. The figure of King iEgeus,
who is in the act of announcing to
the wretched victims their impending
fate, to appease the wrath of the
King of Crete, is solemn and digni-
fied, and the beauty and grief of the
surrounding objects are finely ex-
pressed. At one extremity of the
picture the figure of Theseus, firm,
bold, and determined, is admirably
portrayed. The arrangement of the

grouping is very skilfully managed,
the form and expression of the figures
well contrasted, and the Grecian
outlines are finely marked. It is a
fine historical production, upon the
details of which we should dwell
with pleasure, did the time of the
Exhibition at the close of the month
enable us to do so, without interfer-
ing with our previous arrangements.

FASHIONS.

LONDON

MORNING DRESS.

Dress of jaconot muslin: the cor-
sage made high and very full; the
fulness longitudinally and regularly
arranged by five bands, each formed
of four or five small cords or bob-
bins, and edged on each side with
narrow work : two of the bands ter-
minate at the arm; the next widen
from the centre of the waist, and ex-
tend over the shoulder, where they
turn and meet about half way down
the back. The sleeve is of an easy
fulness: the epaulette slashed, and
interlaced with amber-colour ribbon;
between is a row of quadrangular
bouffants. The cuff is neatly trim-
med with a bobbined band and work-
ed ruffle, and an ornament to corre-
spond with the trimming of the skirt,
which has a deep wreath of a fanci-
ful and novel form, apparently con-
fined to the dress by entwining an
amber -colour ribbon, which forms
the lower part into triangles : the up-
per becomes more pointed, and ex-
tends transversely about a quarter of
a yard: the whole is corded, and
trimmed with narrow work. Worked
muslin ruff to correspond, drawn with
gauze ribbon. Cap of sprigged net;

FASHIONS.

the border of Buckinghamshire lace,
set on plain in front, and a little full
round the slashes of the cap, which
are two on each side, where bows of
amber and lilac gauze ribbon are in-
troduced. The crown is circular,
and ornamented with a narrow rou-
leau of amber satin and lace. Am-
ber-colour corded silk shoes.

DINNER DRESS.

Dress of pale blue twilled sars-
net: the corsage cut bias, and made
to fit the shape : the front simply
ornamented with four satin bands,
forming a stomacher, and a satin
band and tucker of fine blond round
the bust. The sleeve is short and
full, the fulness tastefully arranged
in festoons by four satin buttons, equi-
distant from each other: a little above
the satin band that goes round the
arm, on the shoulder, is a full-blown
satin rose, with palmated satin leaves
pending half way down the sleeve :
broad satin band round the waist,
with a rose and palmated leaves pen-
dant behind. The skirt has an ele-
gant satin border of roses surmount-
ed with leaves, arranged in the form
of the lotus, and united by festoons ;

Olh

. -

•

FASHIONABLE FURNITURE.

.309

beneath is a broad satin rouleau.
White crtpe lisse dress hat ; the
brim very full and rather broad, a
little turned upwards all round, and
ornamented with a garland of da-
mask roses and two long white os-

trich feathers, placed on the right
side. Richly embroidered scolloped
scarf of Urling's lace. Necklace and
ear-rings of turquoise. Long white
gloves ; white satin shoes.

FASHIONABLE FURNITURE.

ASTRONOMICAL CLOCK.

The clock represented in our en-
graving, of a new and elegant shape,
13 inches in diameter and 25 in
height, stands covered with a glass
bell upon a handsome pedestal about
3 feet high, the whole forming a
very useful and tasteful ornament for
a drawing-room or library.

The merit of the invention consists
in its combining and exhibiting at
one view the state of the world, as
acted upon in the progress of time
by the diurnal and annual revolution
of the heavenly bodies immediately
connected with our globe, according
to the Copernican system ; shewing,
at the same time, the hours and the
corresponding position of those bo-
dies in their respective orbits. This
result is obtained as follows :

To the clock is annexed a com-
plicated, and at the same time a sim-
ply and beautifully executed kind of
orrery, which is put in motion by the
clock, and as they perform together
their several motions, they shew —
1. The division of the hour; 2. The
hour of the day ; 3. The day of the
week; 4. The day of the month;
5. The month of the year ; 6. The de-
gree and sign of the zodiac; 7. The
diurnal rotation of the earth upon its
axis, producing the alternations of
day and night for the different coun-
tries of the globe ; 8. The gradual
progress of the earth in its annual
revolution round the sun, combined

with its elliptical movement, which
causes it to approach to, and recede
from, the sun according to the sea-
sons ; 9. The diurnal and annual ro-
tation and elliptical motion of the
moon round the earth as its satellite,
with its phases, indicating at the same
time its age ; and, 10. By means of a
revolving dial placed above the globe,
the true time, and also (at will) the
hour of the day or night, in any given
part of the world.

To add to the utility of this inven-
tion, it is so contrived that, by slight-
ly altering the position of a single
wheel, the orrery is rendered inde-
pendent of the clock, and may then
be put in motion with any degree of
celerity by a handle, for the purpose
of demonstration, as long and as of-
ten as it is found necessary or thought
proper ; after which it is sufficient to
give to the handle a retrograde mo-
tion, until the hand of the zodiac-
dial is brought back to the proper
day of the month, and to replace the
connecting wheel, in order to re-es-
tablish the action of the clock upon
the orrery as before.

Taken thus singly, the orrery will
be found to give a most satisfactory
practical illustration of the elements
of cosmography and geography, by
rendering perceptible those motions
which, in their joint operation with
the clock, are too slow to be sensible
to the eye.

310

INTELLIGENCE, LITERARY, SCIENTIFIC, &C.

The progression of the common
and leap year points out the period
at which the orrery must be wound
up, which occurs only once in four
years.

The ingenuity and utility of this

contrivance reflect great credit on
the skill of the inventor, Mr. Rain-
go, watchmaker, of Paris, who has
obtained a patent from the French
government for the manufacture of
it.

INTELLIGENCE, LITERARY, SCIENTIFIC, &c.

A translation of Schiller's ballad en-
titled Fridolin, or the Road to the Iron-
Foundry, by Mr. J. P. Collier, author of
" The Poetical Decameron," is just ready
for publication. It is handsomely printed
in 4to. and illustrated by eight engrav-
ings in outline, beautifully executed by
Henry Moses, from the masterly designs
of Retsch, whose illustrations of Gdthe's
" Faustus" have rendered his name de-
servedly popular in this country. The
original German is printed with the trans-
lation, on opposite pages, and to the piece
are subjoined some explanatory remarks
on the designs by the translator.

The Rev. James Beresford has in the
press, The Cross and the Crescent, an he-
roic metrical romance, founded on Ma-
dame Cottin's " Matilde."

Mr. Wiffin has completed his transla-
tion of Tasso, and it is in a state of great
forwardness at the press.

A volume is about to be published, for
the benefit of the Artists' Benevolent
Fund, with the title of Testimonies to the
Genius and Memory of Richard Wilson,

R. A. with some account of his life, and
remarks on the style of his landscapes ;
arranged by T. Wright, Esq. It will be
illustrated with plates.

Mr. Bovvdler is preparing for publica-
tion, Gibbon's History of the Fall and De-
cline of the Roman Empire, adapted for
families and young persons, by the omis-
sion of objectionable passages.

Mrs. Frances Parke will shortly pub-
lish a volume, entitled Domestic Duties,
containing instructions to young married
ladies on the management of their house-
holds, and the regulation of their con-
duct in the various relations and duties of
married life.

Mr. A. Skottowe is engaged on a Life
of Shakspeare, with essays on the origi-
nality of the dramatic plots and charac-
ters, and on the ancient theatres and the-
atrical usages, in an 8vo. volume.

The Exhibition of Painters in Water-
Colours , which is at this time open to the
public, shall receive due notice in our
next Number.

$oetrp*

TO THE RIVER LEA.

Still dost thou flow, thou sullen stream,
Thy sedgy-skirted banks along j

Still dost thou drink the morning beam,
And hear the skylark's matin song,
As when the Dane with hostile throng,

And streaming flag and banner came.
Long swept to earth, he lies among

The dead -} but thou art still the same.

Though Memory brings her glass between
The silent dead, the present line,

And faithful to the ruin'd scene,
Records it on her tearful shrine :
Yet must she soon her power resign,

And fling her fading wreaths to thee,
Ere thou forbear one drop of thine,

Thou emblem of eternity.

Witless Wildfire,
iioddesdon, 1823.

Printed ty L. Harrison, 373, Strand.

THE

Beposttorp

ARTS, LITERATURE, FASHIONS,

Manufactures, fyc.

THE THIRD SERIES.

Vol. III.

June 1, 1824.

IN°- XVIII

EMBELLISHMENTS.

frontispiece ........

View of Stoke-Pogis, the Seat of John Penn, Esq.
Mausoleum at Stoke-Pogis in Honour of Gray the Poet
Ladies' Promenade Dress ......

Ball Dress ........

Drawing -Room Table, Chairs, and Footstools
Muslin Pattern.

CONTENTS.

TAG e

MISCELLANIES.

Views of Countiiy Seats. — Stoke-Pogis,

the Seat of John Penn, Esq. . . • 311
Martha the Gipsy : From " Sayings and

Doinys," attributed to Mr. Theodore

Hook, (concluded) 311

Curious Picture of a Princess drawn by

Herself 320

Count Vivalda 321

Ghost Stories. No. VII. — The Appa-
rition of Woodstock 323

Gaelic Relics. No. XII.— Legend of

the Spar Cave 326

Courtship of Mademoiselle de Montpen-

sier • • 330

The 31 agio Goblet 331

The Skilful Politician 334

Curious Coincidences in Dates . • • 330
Christmas Festivities in the South of

France 336

Barry the Philanthropist 337

Maxims

The Confessions of a Rambler. No. IX. .
Anecdotes, fee. Historical, Literary,

;ind Personal —The Duke d'Angou-

l.-me and Raron the Actor— Language

of Paradise — Molierc's Grave— Acute-

ness of the Appenzellers — The Profes-
sor and the Turnpike-Gate— Cardinal

<'ampeius — Convincing Argument

MUSICAL REVIEW.

el a: lmark's " And ye shall walk in silk

.ntire" • • •

• iu< uier's Arrangement of Bishop's

•• Tell me, my heart"

" Hark, Apollo strikes the

P.\GR
to face the Title
. 311
. 314
. 364
. ib.
. 367

338
339

J45

345

»yre'

ib.

PAGE

Cutler's " C'est l'amour" 345

" Love and Friendship" . . 346

" In Rallyerag Town" . . . ib.

Hamond's Infant Vocalist 347

Poole's " Return unto thy rest" . . ib.
_______ " Arrangement of Rossini's

" Regna il Terror" ib.

Rimbaui.t's Overture for the Piano-forte ib.
■ Arrangement of Rossini's

Overture to the Opera of « Native

Land" ib.

' i to Zelmira 348

______ to II Barbiere di Siviglia . ib.

_, _____ — Beethoven's Grand Symphony ib.

i — First Rudiments of the Art of

Plaving ib.

Selection of Popular Waltzes . . . 349

FINE ARTS.

Exhibition of the Royal Academy . . ib.

The Angerstein Collection 358

Exhibition of Painters in Water Colours 360
Peristrephic Panorama 363

FASHIONS.

London Fashions. — Ladies' Promenade
Dress 3(54

Ladies' Ball Dress . . . ib.

General Observations on Fashion and
Dress 365

French Female Fashions 366

Fashionable Furniture. — Drawing-Room

. 367

Tabic, Chairs, and Footstools

INTELLIGENCE,

LITERARY AND SCIENTIFIC

Index

368
369

LONDON

rillNTED FOR, AND PUBLISHED BY, R. ACKERMANN, 101, STRAND;
^.. _i.-„ '•■-ununuatiom (post-paid) are requtstcd to be addnssvd.

To whom Conn

Printed by L. Harrison, 373, Strand.

TO READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS.

Publishers, Authors, Artists, and Musical CamposgKS, arc requested to transmit
on or before the \5th of the month, Announcements of Hark.-! which they muy have on
hand, and we shall cheerfully insert them, as we have hitherto done, free of expense.
New Musical Publications also, if a copy be addressed to the Publisher, shall be duly-
noticed in our Review; and Extracts from new Books, of a moderate length and of am
interesting nature, suitable for our Selections, will be acceptable.

Facts and Fictions, Tale the first, is reserved fur the commencement of a new
volume.

The Noviciate, Village Sketches near Paris, and Sketches of the Manners of
the Italians in Country Towns, have been deferred for the same reason.

Directions to the Binder for placing the Plates in the
THIRD VOLUME, THIRD SERIES.

No.

xni.

XIV.

XV.

Page
Frontispiece . to face the Title
View of the Princess Eliza-
beth's Cottage . . .
- Stoke Farm . .
Ladies' Morning Dress .
— — Promenade Dress

JO.

l i.

79.

13.

14.
15.
16.

Bookcase for a Study

View of Pelling-Place ( Lawn

Front) 63

(Garden-Front) 64

Ladies' Promenade Dress
Evening Dress

Cabinet Dressing-Case .

Muslin Patterns.

View of St. Leonard's Hill .

Iver-Grbve . . .

Ladies' Morning Dress . .

■ Evening Dress . .

]J. Decorations of a Chamber

and French Bed . . .

18. Muslin Patterns.

H9
ib.
123

105
126
181
ib.

185

No.
XVI.

Page
19. View of St. Margaret's (from

the Thames) 187

20. ( Entrance- Front) l 89

21. Ladies' Dinner Dress

Ball Dress

A Cabinet-Glass . . .
Muslin Patterns.
XVII. SS. View of Wanstead-House

23.

24.

242
ib.

249

26.
27.
28.

■ Delaford Park 25 1

Ladies' Morning Dress
Dinner Dress

29. Astronomical Clock

30. Muslin Patterns.
XVIII. 31. View of Stoke-Pogis . .

32 Mausoleum of Gray the Po

et at Stoke Pogis . .
S3. Ladies' Promenade Dress

34. Ball Dress . .

35. Drawing - Room Table,

36,

Chairs, and Footstools
Muslin Pattern.

3<)8
ib.
309

311

314

364
ib.

367

Persons who reside abroad, and who wish to be supplied with this Work every Month is
published, may have it sent to them, free of Postage, to New- York, Halifax, Queber, and
to any part of the West Indies, at £-1 12s. per Annum, by Mr. Thornhili., of the General
Post-Office, at No. 21, Sherborne-lane ; to Hamburgh, Lisbon, Cadiz, Gibraltar, Malta, 01
any Part of the Mediterranean, at £4. 12s. per Annum, by Mr. Seiueant, of the General
Post-Office, at No. 22, Sherborne-lane ; and to the Cape of Good Hope, or any part of the
East Indies, by Mr. Guv, at the East-India House. The money to be paid at the time &f
subscribing, for either 3, 6,9, or 12 months.

This Work may also be had of Messrs. Arkon and Krai', Rotterdam.

50 iq

I HS

tup:

BeposWorp

ARTS, LITERATURE, FASHIONS,

Manufactures, §c.

THE THIRD SERIES,

Vol. III.

June 1, 1824,

N°- XVIII.

VIEWS OF COUNTRY-SEATS.

STOKE-POGIS, THE SKAT

Stoke -Pogis was originally the
property of the Lords de Pogis,
from which ancient family it derives
its name. It is situated about four
miles from Windsor, in Buckingham-
shire. In the reign of King Ed-
ward III. it was conveyed by an
heiress of the Pogis family in mar-
riage into the family of the Lords
Molins. It passed by inheritance to
the Huntingdons. Henry Earl of
Huntingdon, who died in 1595, was
the last of this illustrious family who
possessed Stoke- Pogis. We find
even in his lifetime the manor-house
in the possession of Sir Christopher
Hatton. It then passed through va-
rious hands, until it came into the
possession of Lady Cobham in the
year 1750; about which time Gray
celebrated Stoke -Pogis by his po-
em, a Long Story, in which he de-
scribes the house and grounds, its

Vol, III. No. XVIII.

OF JOHN PENN, ESQ.

defects and beauties, in an admira-
ble style.

The Viscountess Cobham died
without issue in the year 1 7(30, when
Stoke-Pogis was purchased by the
late Hon. Thomas Penn, son of
the Hon. William Penn, the cele-
brated founder and original pro-
prietor of the province of Pennsyl-
vania in North America. Consider-
able alterations and various additions
were now made in the old mansion,
from designs by Richmond. Mr.
Penn dying in 1775, the manor of
Stoke devolved on his eldest surviv-
ing son John, then a minor, by Lady
Juliana his wife, fourth daughter of
Thomas Fermor, first Earl of Pom-
fret. In 1789, the old mansion was
found to be in such a decayed state,
that it was taken down, with the ex-
ception of one wing, left to comme-
morate the Muse of Gray; and, from
T T

■iW

STOKE-POGIS, THE SKAT OF JOHN PENN, ESQ.

its blending so well with the surround-
ing scenery, it is still in existence.
Though a ruin, it forms a pictu-
resque object as viewed from the
grounds, displaying at the same time
a fair specimen of the Gothic man-
sion of the age of Elizabeth.

The present elegant mansion stands
at some distance from the old, the
site being selected by Mr. Penn for
the beauty of the situation and the
fine views which it commands. The
entrance front extends 192 feet, and
is ornamented with a fine colonnade.
The columns, ten in number, are
Doric. The hall of entrance, called
the Marble Hall, is spacious and ex-
quisitely finished : it contains some
superb marble busts, supported on
scagliola pedestals, and communi-
cates with a magnificent library, 126
feet in length, divided into five com-
partments by scagliola columns. The
general division is after Bacon's three-
fold arrangement of reason, memory,
and imagination. Above the book-
cases is a series of designs by Smirke
in chiaro-scuro, representing the prin-
cipal epochs in the history of letters
and science. The collection of books
is well chosen and extensive. The
views from this room are fine, com-
manding Windsor and the distant
wood-covered hills ; while the embel-
lishments of the house seem to form
a fine fore-ground on this side, con-
sisting of a noble park, well stocked
with deer, and otherwise diversified
with a spacious sheet of water. An

which is adorned with a colonnade
of twelve fluted columns of the an-
cient Doric. The library occupies
the whole of this front, with the ex-
ception of the wings, one of which
forms a conservatory, the other a
handsome apartment, which deserves
notice, if but for the fine basso-re-
lievo in marble, by Deare, that graces
the mantel-piece. It represents Caesar
receiving a check from the Britons.
Connected with this room is one that
contains a portion of the trunk of a
tree, supported on a marble base.
On a brass plate is this inscription :
" This part of the great elm under
which the treaty was held, A. D. 1681,
between Penn and the first inhabitants
of America in the neighbourhood of Phi-
ladelphia, and which was blown down
A.D.I 810, is a present from some of
the Society of Friends or Quakers re-
siding in Pennsylvania."
It is added:

" The tree was in some danger during
the American war while the British army
was in possession of that city, it being
often necessary to cut down the trees in
its vicinity for firing. But the late Ge-
neral Simcoe, who had the command of
the district in which it grew, was induc-
ed, by his esteem for the character of
William Penn, and the history connected
with it, to order a guard of British sol-
diers to protect it from the axe."

By the side are some portraits of
the Indian chiefs who signed the
following deed :

" This indenture witnesseth, that we,
Packenah, Jaultham Jickals, Partquesolt,

observatory at the top of the house ;; Jcrois Essepimank, Felktroy, Hekellap-

commands a great variety of pleas-
ing and noble scenes, bounded by
the castle of Windsor on the one
side; Taplow, Cliefden, Dropmore,
and Hcdsor on the other.

Our View of the delightful man-
sion represents the k'outh Front,

pace, Eromus, Machloha, Wissa Powy,
Indian kings, sack-makers, right owners
of all lands from Quing Quingus, called
Duck Creek, unto upland, called Chester
Creek, all along by the west side of De-
laware river, and so between the said
creeks backwards as far as a man can

ST0KF-P0C.1S, THF, SKAT OF JOHN PENN, ESQ.

313

ride in two days with a porse, for and
in consideration of these following goods,
and as paid in hand and secured by
William Penn, proprietary and governor
of the province of Pennsylvania and ter-
ritories thereof; viz. 20 guns, 20 fathoms
matchcoat, 20 fathoms stroud-watcr, 20
blankets, 20 kettles, 20 lbs. of powder,
100 bars of lead, 40 tomahawks, 100
knives, 40 pairs of stockings, 1 barrel of
beer, 20 lbs. of red lead, 100 fathoms of
wampum, 30 glass bottles, 30 pewter
spoons, 100 awl-blades, 300 tobacco-
pipes, 100 hands of tobacco, 20 tobacco-
tongs, 20 steels, 300 flints, 30 pairs of
scissars, 30 combs, GO looking-glasses,
200 needles, 1 skipple of salt, 30 lbs. of
sugar, 8 gallons of molasses, 20 tobacco-
boxes, 100 Jews' harps, 20 hoes, 30 gim-
blets, 30 wooden screw boxes, 100 strings
of beads; do hereby acknowledge, &c.
&c. Given under our hand at New-
castle, 2d day of the 8th month, 1685."
A true copy taken from the original,
in Dec. 1813, by Ephraim Morton, of
Washington, Pennsylvania, formerly a
clerk in the land-office.

The dining-room and other apart-
ments contain some fine portraits by
Vandyke, Lely, Kneller, Sir Joshua
Reynolds, Romney, and Sir William
Beechey.

The house is of brick stuccoed ;
was finished in 1790, after designs
by the late Mr. Nasmith, but has
since undergone an entire alteration,
under the management of Mr. James
Wyatt.

The pleasure-grounds are charm-
ingly laid out; the flower-garden be-
ing after Mason's principle, as de-
scribed in his poem, " The English
Garden." Here is a chaste temple
with Ionic columns, dedicated to the
" Child of Fancy," containing a bust
of Shakspeare, beneath which is the
following inscription, from his " Mer-
ry Wives of Windsor :"

" About, about,
Search Windsor castle, elves, within and out:
Strew good luck, ouphes, on every sacred

room,
That it may stand till the perpetual doom
In state as wholesome as in state 'tis lit,
Worthy the owner as the owner it.
The several chairs of order look you scour
With juice of balm and every precious

flower :
Each fair instalment, coat, and several crest,
With loyal blazon evermore be blest !
And nightly, meadow fairies, look you sing,
Like to the Garter's compass in a ring:
The expressure that it bears, green let it be,
More fertile, fresh, than all the fields to see ;
And Honi soit qui mal ypense write
In emerald tufts, flowers purpled, blue, and

white,
Like sapphire, pearl, in rich embroidery,
Buckled below fair knighthood's bending

knee :
Fairies use flowers for their charactcry."

It should be observed, that the
temple faces Windsor castle, of
which there is a fine view in the dis-
tance, thus rendering the whole most
apposite.

This flower-garden teems with
sweet-scented shrubs, and is adorned
with the busts of eminent men, on
pedestals bearing inscriptions from
their works. In the recesses are ele-
gant vases sacred to friendship. In
fact, not a nook but is carefully fur-
nished with some appropriate embel-
lishment. It is but justice to state,
that the whole is the arrangement of
Mr. Penn.

The park is delightfully wooded :
from the diversified surface of the
ground, the effect is very fine. Seve-
ral embellishments raise their chaste
forms among the woods, imparting
grace to the natural beauties which
surround them. To the north is a
column 58 feet in height, supporting
a colossal statue of Sir Edward
Coke, by Rossi; while to the east,
looking beyond a handsome stone
bridge which crosses a fine sheet of
water, is seen the monument of Cray.
T t 2

MARTHA THE GIPSY.

Our Second Plate is a near view
of this Mausoleum: it was erected in
1799, previously to which time, not
any memorial had been bestowed on
the departed bard, who lay as it were
neglected, until Mr. Penn, with feel-
ings that all must admire, raised a
shrine to his memory. It consists of a
sarcophagus of stone, supported on a
square pedestal, the sides of which
form tablets, on which are quotations
from his works. On approaching,
the following inscriptions meet the
eye: south side.

This Monument,

In honour of THOMAS GRAY,

Was erected A. D. 1799,

Among the scenes celebrated by that

Great lyric and elegiac poet.

He died July 30, 1771, and

Lies, unnoticed, under the tombstone on

AVhich he piously and pathetically

Recorded the interment of his

Aunt and lamented mother.

EAST SIDE.
Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's
shade,
Wbere heaves the turf in many a moulder-
ing heap,
Each in his narrow cell for ever laid,

The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.

The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power,
And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er
gave,

Await alike the inevitable hour —

The paths of glory lead but to the grave.

NORTH SID*.
Ye distant spires, ye antique towers,
That crown the watery glade !

0 happy hill, O pleasing shade,
O fields, belov'd in vain,

Where once my careless childhood stray'd,
A stranger yet to pain,

1 feel the gales that from you blow
A momentary bliss bestow.

WEST SIDE.
Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn,
Mutt1 ring his wayward fancies, he would
rove ;
Now drooping, woful, wan, like one forlorn,
Or crazed with care, or cross'd in hopeless
love.-

One morn I miss'd him on the accustom'd
hill,

Along the heath, and near hisfav'rite tree ;
Another came, nor yet beside the rill,

Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he.

The situation of this monument
is admirably chosen : the back-ground
is full of interest. The venerable
church of Stoke, a plain rustic edi-
fice, may be said to belong to Stoke
Park. Here all is solemn, still, re-
mote from the busy hum of men ;
and here, " beneath the yew-tree's
shade," is the spot consecrated by the
interment of Gray. It is immedi-
ately beneath the eastern window,
where his mother and his aunt were
previously buried.

MARTHA THE GIPSY.

(From " Sai/i7igs and Doings," attributed to Mr. Thkodoue Hook.)
(Concluded from p. 275.)

Assistance was promptly procur-
ed, and the wounded sufferers were
carefully removed to their respective
dwellings. Frederick Langdale's suf-
ferings were much greater than those
of his companion; and in addition to
severe fractures of two of his limbs,
the wound upon the head presented
a most terrible appearance, and ex-

cited the greatest alarm in his medi-
cal attendants.

Mr. Harding, whose temperate
course of life was greatly advantage-
ous to his case, had suffered com-
paratively little : a simple fracture of
the arm and dislocation of the collar-
bone (which was the extent of his
misfortune) were by skilful treatment

MARTHA Tin: gipsy-.

315

and implicit obedience to profession-
al commands soon pronounced in a
state of improvement: but a wound
had been inflicted which no doctor
could heal. The conviction that the
woman whose anger he had incurred
had, if not the power of producing
evil, at least a prophetic spirit ; and
that he had twice again to see her
before the fulfilment of her prophe-
cy, struck deep into his mind ; and
although he felt himself more at ease
when he had communicated to Mrs.
Harding the fact of having seen the
gipsy at the moment of the accident,
it was impossible for him to rally from
the shock which his nerves had re-
ceived. It was in vain he tried to
shake off the perpetual apprehension
of again beholding her.

Frederick Langdale remained for
some time in a very precarious state.
All visitors were excluded from his
room, and a wretched space of two
months passed, during which his af-
fectionate Maria had never been al-
lowed to see him, nor to write to,
nor to hear from him ; while her con-
stitution, like that of my poor Fanny
Meadows, was gradually giving way
to the constant operation of solici-
tude and sorrow.

Mr. Harding meanwhile recover-
ed rapidly, but his spirits did not
keep pace with his mending health:
the dread he felt of quitting his house,
the tremor excited in his breast by a
knocking at the door, or at the ap-
proach of a footstep, lest the intruder
should be the basilisk Martha, were
not to be described ; and the appear-
ance of his poor Maria did not tend
to dissipate the gloom which hung
over his mind. When Frederick at
length was sufficiently recovered to
receive visitors, Maria was not suffi-
ciently well to visit him: she was too

rapidly sinking into an early grave;
and even the physician himself ap-
peared desirous of preparing her pa-
rents for the worst; while she, full of
the symptomatic prospectiveness of
the disease, talked anticipatingly of
future happiness, when Frederick
would be sufficiently re-established
to visit her.

At length, however, the doctors
suggested a change of air — a sugges-
tion instantly attended to, but, alas!
too late; the weakness of the poor
girl was such, that upon a trial of
her strength it was found inexpedi-
ent to attempt her removal.

In this terrible state, separated
from him whose all she was, did the
exemplary patient linger, and life
seemed flickering in her flushing
cheek, and her eye was sunken, and
her parched lip quivered with pain.

It was at length agreed, that on
the following day Frederick Lang-
dale might be permitted to visit her:
— his varied fractures were reduced,
and the wound on the head had as-
sumed a favourable appearance. The
carriage was ordered to convey him
to the Hardings' at one, and the phy-
sicians advised by all means that
Maria should be apprised of and
prepared for the meeting the day
previous to its taking place. Those
who are parents, and those alone,
will be able to understand the ten-
der solicitude, the wary caution with
which both her father and mother
proceeded in a disclosure so impor-
tant as the medical men thought to
her recovery — so careful that the
coming joy should be imparted gra-
dually to their suffering child, and
that all the mischiefs resulting from
an abrupt announcement should be
avoided.

They sat down by her — spoke of

MARTHA TIIK GITSY.

Frederick — Maria joined in the con-
versation— raised herself in her bed
— by degrees hope was excited that
she might soon again see him — this
hope was gradually improved into
certainty — the period at which it
might occur spoken of — that period
again progressively diminished. The
anxious girl caught the whole truth
— she knew it — she was conscious
that she should behold him on the
morrow — she burst into a flood of
tears and sank down upon her pillow.
At that moment the bright sun,
which was shining in all its splendour,
beamed into the room, and fell strong-
ly upon her flushed countenance.

" Draw the blind down, my love,"
said Mrs. Harding to her husband.
Harding rose and proceeded to the
window.

A shriek of horror burst from him.
— " She is there!" exclaimed he.
" Who?" cried his astonished wife.
" She — she — the horrid she!"
Mrs. Harding ran to the window,
and beheld on the opposite side of
the street, with her eyes fixed atten-
tively on the house — Martha the
gipsy.

" Draw down the blind, my love,
and come away; pray come away,"
said Mrs. Harding.

Harding drew down the blind.
" What evil is at hand?" sobbed
the agonized man.

A loud scream from Mrs. Hard-
ing, who had returned from the bed-
side, was the horrid answer to his
painful question.
Maria was dead!
Twice of the thrice had he seen
this dreadful fiend in human shape;
each visitation was (as she had fore-
told) to surpass the preceding one
in its importance of horror. What
could surpass this?

Before the afflicted parents lay
their innocent child stretched in the
still sleep of death : neither of them
believed it true — it seemed like a
horrid dream. Harding was bewil-
dered, and turned from the corpse of
his beloved to the window he had
just left. Martha was gone — and
he heard her singing a wild and joy-
ous air at the other end of the street.
The servants were summoned —
medical aid was called in — but it
was all too late! and the wretched
parents were doomed to mourn their
loved, their lost Maria. George,
her fond and affectionate brother,
who was at Oxford, hastened from
all the academic honours which were
waiting him, to follow to her grave
his beloved sister.

The effect upon Frederick Lang-
dale was most dreadful: it was sup-
posed that he would never recover
from a shock so great, and at the mo-
ment so unexpected; for although
the delicacy of her constitution was
a perpetual source of uneasiness and
solicitude, still the immediate symp-
toms had taken rather a favourable
turn during the last few days of her
life, and had reinvigorated the hopes
which those who so dearly loved
her entertained of her eventual re-
covery. Of this distressed young man
I never indeed heard any thing, till
about three years after, when I saw
it announced in the papers, that he
was married to the only daughter of
a rich west-country baronet, which,
if I wanted to work out a proverb
here, would afford me a most admi-
rable opportunity of doing so.

The death of poor Maria, and the
dread which her father entertained
of the third visitation of Martha,
made the most complete change in
the affairs of the family. By the ex-

MAKTHA THE GIPSY.

.51?

ertion of powerful interest, lie obtain-
ed an appointment for his son to act
as his deputy in the office which he
held; and having achieved this desir-
ed object, resolved on leaving Eng-
land for a time, and quitting a neigh-
bourhood where he must be perpe-
tually exposed to the danger which
lie was now perfectly convinced was
inseparable from his next interview
with the weird woman.

George of course, thus checked
in his classical pursuits, left Oxford,
and at the early age of nineteen com-
menced active official life, not cer-
tainly in the particular department
which his mother had selected for
his debut; and it was somewhat ob-
servable, that the Langdales, after
the death of Maria, not only abstained
from frequent intercourse with the
Hardings during their stay in Eng-
land, but that the mighty professions
of the purse-proud citizen dwindled
by degrees into an absolute forget-
fulness of any promise, even condi-
tional, to exert an interest for their
son.

Seeing this, Mr. Harding felt that
he should act prudentially by endea-
vouring to place his son where, in j
the course of time, he might perhaps
attain to that situation from whose
honourable revenue he could live like
a gentleman and " settle comforta-
bly."

All the arrangements which the
kind father had proposed being made,
the mourning couple proceeded on a
lengthened tour of the Continent;
and it was evident that his spirits
mended rapidly when he felt consci-
ous that his liability to encounter
Martha was decreased. The sorrow
of mourning was soothed and soften-
ed in the common course of nature,
and the quiet domesticated couple

sat themselves down at Lausanne,
" the world forgetting, by the world
forgot," except by their excellent
and exemplary son, whose good qua-
lities it seems had captivated a re-
markably pretty girl, a neighbour of
his, whose mother appeared to be
equally charmed with the goodness
of his income.

There appeared, strange to say,
in this affair no difficulties to be
surmounted, no obstacles to be over-
come; and the consent of the Hard-
ings (requested in a letter, which also
begged them to be present at the
ceremony, if they were willing it
should take place,) was presently ob-
tained by George ; and at the close
of the second year which had pass-
ed since their departure, the parents
and son were again united in that
house, the very sight of which recall-
ed to their recollection their poor
unhappy daughter and her melan-
choly fate, and which was still as-
sociated most painfully in the mind
of Mr. Harding with the hated gipsy.
The charm, however, had no doubt
been broken. In the two past years
Martha was doubtless either dead or
gone from the neighbourhood : they
were a wandering tribe. And thus
Mrs. Harding checked the rising ap-
prehensions and renewed uneasiness
of her husband ; and so well did she
succeed, that when the wedding-day
came, and the bells rang, and the
favours fluttered in the air, his coun-
tenance was lighted with smiles, and
he kissed the glowing cheek of his
new daughter-in-law with warmth
and something like happiness.

The wedding took place at that
season of the year when friends and
families meet jovially and harmoni-
ously, when all little bickerings are
forgotten, and when, by a general

MAltTIIA TIIF. GIPSY'.

feeling, founded upon religion and
perpetuated by the memory of the |
blessing granted to the world by the \
Almighty, a universal amnesty is
proclaimed; when the cheerful fire
and the teeming board announce that
Christmas is come, and mirth and
gratulation are the order of the day.

It unfortunately happened, how-
ever, that to the account of Miss
Wilkinson's marriage with George
Harding, lam not permitted, in truth,
to add that they left town in a tra-
velling coach and four, to spend the
honey -moon. Three or four days
permitted absence from his office
alone were devoted to the celebration
of the nuptials ; and it was agreed
that the whole party, together with
the younger branches of the Wil-
kinsons, their cousins and second
cousins, Sec. should meet on Twelfth-
night, to celebrate in a juvenile party
the return of the bride and bride-
groom to their home.

When that night came it was de-
lightful to see the happy faces of the
smiling youngsters ; it was a pleasure
to behold them pleased — a partici-
pation in which, since the highest
amongst ns and the most accom-
plished prince in Europe annually
evinces the gratification he feels in
such sights, I am by no means dis-
posed to disclaim. And merry was
the jest, and gaily did the evening
pass; and Mr. Harding, surrounded
by his youthful guests, smiled and
for a season forgot his care : yet, as
he glanced round the room, he could
not suppress a sigh, when he recol-
lected that in that very room his
darling Maria had entertained her
little parties on the anniversary of
the same day in former years.

Supper was announced early, and
the gay throng bounded down stairs

to the parlour, where an abundance
of the luxuries of middling life crowd-
ed the board. In the centre appear-
ed the great object of the feast — a
huge twelfth-cake, and gilded kings
and queens stood lingering over cir-
cles of scarlet sweetmeats, and hearts
of sugar lay enshrined with warlike
trophies of the same material.

Many and deep were the wounds
the mighty cake received, and every
guest watched with a deep anxiety
the coming portion, relatively to the
glittering splendour with which its
frosted surface was adorned. Cha-
racter-cards, illustrated with pithy
mottoes and quaint sayings, were
distributed ; and by one of those
little frauds which such societies to-
lerate, Mr. Harding was announced
as king, and the new bride as queen;
and there was such charming joking,
and such harmless merriment abound-
ing, that he looked to his wife with
an expression of content, which she
had often but vainly sought to find
upon his countenance since the death
of his dear Maria.

Supper concluded, the clock struck
twelve, and the elders looked as if it
were time for the young ones to de-
part. One half-hour's grace was
begged for by the " king," and grant-
ed; and Mrs. George Harding on
this night was to sing them a song
about " poor old maidens" — an an-
cient quaintness, which, by custom
and usage, ever since she was a little
child, she had annually performed
upon this anniversary; and accord-
ingly the promise being claimed, si-
lence was obtained, and she, with all
that show of tucker-heaving diffi-
dence, which is so becoming in a
very pretty downy-cheeked girl, pre-
pared to commence, when a noise,
resembling that produceable by the

MARTHA TIIK GIPSY.

319

falling of an eight-and-forty pound
shot, echoed through the house. It
appeared to descend from the very
top of the building down each flight
of stairs rapidly and violently. It
passed the door of the room in which
they were sitting, and rolled its im-
petuous course downwards to the
basement. As it seemed to leave
the parlour, the door was forced
open, as if by a gust of wind, and
stood ajar.

All the children were in a moment
on their feet, huddled close to their
respective mothers in groups. Mrs.
Harding rose and rang the bell, to
inquire the meaning of the uproar.
Her daughter-in-law, pale as ashes,
looked at George ; but there was one
of the party who moved not — who
stirred not : it was the elder Hard-
ing, whose eyes, first fixed stedfastly
on the half-opened door, followed
the course of the wall of the apart-
ment to the fire-place— there they
rested.

When the servants came, they said
they had heard the noise, but thought
it proceeded from above. Harding
looked at his wife ; and then turning
to the servant, observed carelessly,
that it must have been some noise
in the street, and desiring him to
withdraw, entreated the bride to pur-
sue her song. She did; but the
children had been too much alarmed
to enjoy it, and the noise had in its
character something so strange and
so unearthly, that even the elders of
the party, although bound not to
admit any thing like apprehension
before their offspring, felt glad when
they found themselves at home.

When the guests were gone, and
George's wife lighted her candle to
retire to rest, her father-in-law kiss-

Vol. III. No. XVIII.

ed her affectionately, and prayed
God to bless her. He then took a
kind leave of his son, and putting
up a fervent prayer for his happi-
ness, pressed him to his heart, and
bade him adieu with an earnest-
ness which, under the commonplace
circumstance of a temporary separa-
tion, was inexplicable to the young
man.

When he reached his bed-room
he spoke to his wife, and entreated
her to prepare her mind for some
great calamity.

" What it is to be," said Harding,
" where the blow is to fall, I know
not; but it is impending over us this
night!"

" My life!" exclaimed Mrs. Hard-
ing, " what fancy is this?"

" Eliza, love!" answered her hus-
band, in a tone of unspeakable ago-
ny, " I have seen her for the third
and last time!"

"Who?"

" Martha the gipsy."

'* Impossible!" said Mrs. Harding,
" you have not left the house to-day !"

" True, my beloved," replied the
husband; " but I have seen her.
When that tremendous noise was
heard at supper, as the door was su-
pernaturally opened, I saw her. She
fixed those dreadful eyes of hers
upon me; she proceeded to the fire-
place, and stood in the midst of the
children, and there she remained till
the servant came in."

" My dearest husband," said Mrs.
Harding, " this is but a disorder of
the imagination!"

" Be it what it may," said he, " I
have seen her. Human or superhu-
man— natural or supernatural — there
she was. I shall not strive to argue
upon a point where I am likely to
U u

320

CURIOUS PICTURE OF A PRINCESS.

meet with little credit: all I ask is?
pray fervently, have faith, arid we
will hope the evil, whatever it is,
may be averted."

He kissed his wife's cheek tender-
ly, and after a fitful feverish hour or
two fell into a slumber.

From that slumber never woke he
more. He was found dead in his
bed in the morning!

" Whether the foi*ce of imagina-
tion, coupled with the unexpected
noise, produced such an alarm as to
rob him of life, I know not," said my
communicant; " but he was dead."

This story was told to me by my
friend Ellis in walking from the city
to Harley-street late in the evening;
and when we came to this part of the
history we were in Bedford-square,
at the dark and dreary corner of it
where Caroline-street joins it.

" And there," said Ellis, pointing
downwards," is the street where it all
occurred."

" Come, come," said I, " you tell
the story well; but I suppose you do
not expect it to be received as gos-
pel?"

" Faith," said he, " I know so
much of it, that I was one of the
party and heard the noise."

" But you did not see the spectre?"
cried I.—" No," said Ellis, " I cer-
tainly did not."

" No," answered I, " nor any bo-
dy else, I'll be sworn." A quick foot-
step was just then heard behind us
— I turned half round to let the per-
son pass, and saw a woman envelop-
ed in a red cloak, whose sparkling
black eyes shone upon by the dim
lustre of a lamp above her head daz-
zled me. — I was startled. — " Pray
remember old Martha the gipsy!"
said the hag.

It was like a thunder-stroke — I in-
stantly slipped my hand into my poc-
ket, and hastily give her therefrom a
five-shilling piece.

" Thanks, my bonny one!" said the
woman; and setting up a shout of
contemptuous laughter, she bounded
down Caroline-street into Russell-
street, singing or rather yelling a
joyous song.

Ellis did not speak during this
scene — he pressed my arm tightly,
and we quickened our pace. We
said nothing to each other till we
turned into Bedford-street, and the
lights and passengers of Tottenham-
court-road reassured us.

" What do you think of that?"
said Ellis to me.

" Seeing is believing," was my
reply.

I have never passed that dark
corner of Bedford-square in the even-
ing since.

CURIOUS PICTURE OF A PRINCESS DRAWN BY
HERSELF.

It would be difficult to find a pa-
rallel to the picture given of herself
by the Duchess of Orleans, mother
to the regent who governed France
during the minority of Louis XV.

" From my earliest youth," says
this princess in her Memoirs, " I
well knew how very plain I was, and

did not like people to look at me at-
tentively. I bestowed no pains on
dress, because fine clothes and dia-
monds attract notice. My husband,
on the other hand, was very fond of
covering himself with diamonds, and
not a little gratified that I disliked
such ornaments. On gala -days I

COUNT VIVALDA.

321

was obliged to use rouge, which I
did much against my will, because I
hated every thing that put me out of
my way. One day I made the Coun-
tess of Soissons laugh heartily. She
asked me why, in passing the look-
ing-glass, I did not turn to it like
every body else. I replied, ' that I
had a great deal too much self-love,
to mortify myself with the sight of
my own ugliness.'

" I was really extremely ugly in
my youth ; I had not a single inter-
esting feature in my whole face. With
small eyes, snub nose, fat cheeks, and
thick' lips, I had nothing whatever
attractive in my physiognomy. In
stature I was short and squat ; in a
word, I was destitute of every kind
of charm. Had I not been so good-
tempered, nobody could have endur-
ed me. It would have been impos-
sible to find any traces of intellect
about me, even with a magnifying
glass. Perhaps on the whole face

of the earth there was not so hide-
ous a pair of hands as mine. The
king himself (Louis XIV.) often
made this remark to me; jocosely
adding, that I must be thoroughly
convinced of my ugliness, since I was
always the first to laugh at it myself.
" I was nevertheless by nature of
a melancholy disposition, and when
any thing vexed me, my left side
swelled as though it was full of wa-
ter. I could not bear to lie awake in
bed; and therefore rose as soon as I
awoke. I seldom took any break-
fast, and then only bread and but-
ter; disliking coffee, chocolate, and
tea. My mode of life was quite
German, and in eating and drinking
I adhered closely to the good old ha-
bits. I could not abide any soup
which was not mixed with milk, beer,
or wine. Neither could I endure
brown bread, and was always so ill
after it, that nothing would cure me
but eating ham and sausages."

COUNT VIVALDA.

M. Jouy, whose popularity as the
author of many sprightly and inter-
esting works is not confined to his
own country, has introduced us in
his last publication, L'Her?nite en
ItaUe, to a fellow-traveller whom he
fell in with on the road from Lyons
to Turin. He strove in vain to make
acquaintance with the stranger, who
avoided him as much as possible, and
appeared very uneasy when the pass-
ports were examined by the ge//s-,
darmerie. The writer describes him
as a man between forty and fifty,
with a grave yet prepossessing look,
a forced smile, and an air of melan-
choly, commanding interest and re-
spect. Involuntary sighs and appa-
rently convulsive movements escaped

him. His answers to questions were
laconic, and frequently he gave none
at all. It was not till the travellers
reached Turin, that the mysterious
stranger stepped up to our author
and whispered as follows: " You shall
know more concerning me: but be-
ware of making inquiry after me;
wait till I furnish you with informa-
tion." Soon afterwards he received
a note, but without signature, to the
following effect: " Be to-morrow,
the 2d of November, precisely at two
o'clock, on the Boulevard Borghese,
opposite to the foundry, and a per-
son will meet you there."

Here accordingly I found him,
continues the traveller, wrapped in a
wide cloak and with a slouched hat.
U u 2

322

COUNT VIVALDA.

He came up to me. " Adversity,"
said he, " has taught me to read the
thoughts of men in their eyes. I have
observed, not only that I have excited
your curiosity, but that the source of
it is pure and philanthropic. After
the inquiries which I have made, I
may gratify it, and impart my history
to you. I am Count Vivalda. My
family is one of the most ancient,
opulent, and distinguished in Milan.
In my youth I squandered away my
fortune ; I have travelled over almost
the whole of Europe, shall leave Tu-
rin in an hour, and hold your life re-
sponsible for the keeping of the se-
cret that I am intrusting you with.
I am hastening to my people, to make
my report to them : till then not a
creature must know our place of
abode. Our ultimate intention is to
settle in America, whither we shall
carry prodigious treasures. I share
with the valiant Meino the command
over the heroes of Narzoli, of whom
gensdarmes are at this moment in
quest. Take this ring; it will be
a better safeguard to you on the
roads of Italy than all the passports
of Napoleon. You need but shew
it: it will command universal respect."
At these words an involuntary
shudder came over me. He remark-
ed it, and continued with a smile:
" I am not now engaged in the pur-
suit of my duty and business; here
I am a man like yourself; but should
prejudice against our way of life not
have struck too deep root in your
mind, you would discover in it much
that is great, and you would even be
convinced, that it is compatible with
the performance of many an act of
justice, with the exercise of many a
virtue. There is nothing too bold,
too hazardous, too desperate for us
to attempt. Two years ago General

Menou, then governor of Turin,
caused the strictest search to be
made after us. Meino and I contriv-
ed to procure two French staff-offi-
cers' uniforms ; we learned the watch-
word; at midnight we obtained ad-
mittance into the governor's house,
upon pretext of urgent orders of
which we were the bearers, and pe-
netrated to his bedchamber. Here,
alone with him, we discovered our-
selves, and thus addressed him: —
' You cause us to be pursued as ene-
mies, and are at this moment our pri-
soner: suspend all your measures
against us, if you would not have us
pay you another visit, the conse-
quences of which would be more se-
rious." Next morning we were far
enough out of his reach in our head-
quarters. Some time afterwards,
when the beautiful Signora Meino
was taken and carried to Alessandria,
her husband repaired, in the uniform
of a colonel of gensdarmcric, to Ge-
neral D . He wore the order of

the legion of honour, and the very
same cross he had taken from Sali-
cetti, the traitor. No sooner was

Meino alone with General D ,

than he began plumply to assure
him, that if his wife were not set at

liberty within three days, he

The general would not allow him to
finish ; he motioned him to retire,
and two days afterwards the signora
was free. I had staid behind at
Alessandria, and should otherwise
have called the general to a severe
account at the expiration of the time.
But imagine not that we delight in
bloodshed. We seldom murder, and
only in case of absolute necessity.
Our band is subject to the strictest
discipline. We never carry oft* fe-
males, whose virtue we honour and
respect above all things. We make

THE APPARITION OF WOODSTOCK.

323

it our principal business to secure
the persons of wealthy Italians, and
to keep them as pledges. Without
doing them the least bodily harm, or
violating that respect which is due
to them, we carry them into our
mountains, and there treat them with
kindness and indulgence till they are
ransomed; that is, till we have ob-
tained from their families a sum of
money in proportion to their fortune.
The duration of their captivity de-
pends entirely on themselves and
their relatives. We permit them to
send home letters, mentioning the
time and place at which the ransom
is to be paid. We consider them
only as hostages, who are immediate-
ly liberated when our terms are com-
plied with. If, however, their fa-
milies abuse this intimation, and ac-
quaint the authorities with the cir-
cumstances, death is the consequence ;
and this danger is always particular-

ly insisted on in the letter. No man
is ever carried off and compelled to
ransom himself twice."

With these words, the count, re-
peating his injunction of secrecy,
shook me by the hand. We parted,
and for ever. I have since learned,
that, after several sanguinary con-
flicts with the gcnsdarmeric, Meino
and he were surrounded in a farm-
house, which was formally besieged,
and as they would not surrender, a
fire was opened on the house, which
was soon in flames. Meino, who was
no more than twenty-five years old,
and his comrades, were dragged
from amidst the blazing ruins, con-
veyed to Turin, condemned by the
court of assize, and executed at the
Place de Greve there in the Jews'
quarter. Salicetti's cross was trans-
ferred from the bosom of the robber
to that of the commander of the
gensdarmerie of Alessandria.

GHOST STORIES.— No. VII.

THE APPAKITJON OF WOODSTOCK.

Soon after the execution of King
Charles I. the parliament appointed
a commission to survey his house at
Woodstock, with the manor, park,
woods, and other demesnes belong-
ing to it. The commissioners, hav-
ing engaged a secretary named Giles
Sharp, met on the loth of October,
1649, and took up their residence in
the king's own rooms. They made
his majesty's bedchamber their kitch-
en, the council-hall their pantry, and
the presence - chamber the place
where they sat for the dispatch of
business. The dining-room they con-
verted into a wood-yard, and stored
it with the wood of the famous roy-
al oak from the High Park, which, in
order that nothing might be left with

the name of the king about it, they
had dug up by the roots, and split
and bundled up into faggots for fuel.
Things being thus prepared, they
met on the 16th of the same month
for the dispatch of business; but m
the midst of their first consultation,
there entered a large black dog,
which made a dreadful howling, over-
turned two or three of their chairs,
and then crept under a bed and va-
nished. This excited the greater
surprise as the doors were kept con-
stantly locked, so that no ordinary
dog could have got either in or out.
Next day their surprise was increas-
ed: when sitting at dinner in a lower
room, they plainly heard the noise
of persons walking over their heads,

THE APPAIUTION OP WOODSTOCK.

though they well knew that the doors
were all locked, and that nobody
could be there. Presently afterwards
they heard the wood of the king's
oak brought by parcels from the din-
ing-room, and thrown with great vio-
lence into the presence-chamber; as
also all the chairs, stools, tables, and
other furniture, forcibly hurried about
the room ; their papers, containing
the minutes of their transactions,
were torn, and the ink-glass broken.

When all this noise had ceased,
Sharp, their secretary, proposed to
examine these rooms; and in presence
of the commissioners, from whom he
received the key, he opened the
doors, and found the wood spread
about the room, the chairs tossed
about and broken, the papers torn,
and the ink-glass broken, as already
mentioned, but not the least track of
any human creature, nor the least
reason to suspect one, as the doors
were all fast, and the keys in the
custody of the commissioners. It
was therefore unanimously agreed,
that the author of this mischief must
have entered the room by the key-
hole.

The following night, Sharp the
secretary and two of the commis-
sioners' servants being in bed in the
same room, which was contiguous to
that where the commissioners lay,
had their beds' feet lifted up so much
higher than their heads, that they
expected to have their necks broken,
and then they were let fall at once
with so much violence as shook the
whole house, and terrified the com-
missioners more than ever.

On the night of the 19th, as all
were in bed in the same room for
greater safety, and lights burning by
them, the candles in an instant went
out with a sulphureous smell, and at

the same moment many wooden
trenchers were hurled about the room,
which next morning were found to
be the same which their honours had
eaten off* the day before, and which
had been removed from the pantry,
though not a lock was found opened
in the whole house. The next night
they fared still worse: the candles
went out as before; the curtains of
their honours' beds were rattled to
and fro with great violence ; their ho-
nours received many severe blows and
bruises from eight great pewter dish-
es and a number of wooden trenchers
thrown on their beds, and which,
falling off again, were heard rolling
about the room, though in the morn-
ing not one of them was to be seen.
This night likewise they were alarm-
ed by the tumbling down of oaken
billets about their beds and other
frightful noises; but all was clear in
the morning, as if no such thing had
happened.

The following night the keeper of
the king's house and his dog lay in
the commissioners' room, and then
they had no disturbance: but on the
night of the 22d, though the dog lay
in the room as before, yet the can-
dles went out; a number of brick-
bats fell from the chimney into the
room; the dog howled piteously;
their bed-clothes were all stripped
off, and their terror increased. On
the 24th, they thought that all the
wood of the king's oak was violently
thrown down by their bed-sides: they
counted sixty-four billets that fell,
and some hit and shook the beds in
: M'hich they lay; but in the morning
| nothing was to be seen, nor had the
door of the room where the billet-
wood was kept been opened. The
next night the candles were put out,
the curtains rattled, and a dreadful

TI1F. APPARITION OF WOODSTOCK.

325

crack like thunder was heard; and
one of the servants running in haste,
thinking his master was killed, found
three dozen of trenchers laid smooth-
ly under the quilt by him.

All this, however, was nothing to
what followed. About the middle of
the night of the 29th, the candles
went out; something walked majes-
tically through the room, and opened
and shut the windows; great stones
were thrown violently into the room,
some of which fell on the beds and
others on the floor: about one o'clock
a noise was heard like that of forty
camion discharged together, and it
was repeated after an interval of
about eight minutes. These explo-
sions, which were heard through all
the country for sixteen miles round,
alarmed and raised all the neighbour-
hood, who coming into their honours'
room, collected the great stones, four
score in number, and laid them in
the corner of a field, where they
were still to be seen many years af-
terwards. During these noises, which
were heard in both rooms at once,
the commissioners and their servants
gave themselves up for lost: they
cried out for help, and Giles Sharp,
snatching up a sword, had well nigh
killed one of their honours, mistak-
ing him for the spirit, as he came
from his own room to theirs. While
they were together, the noise was
continued, part of the tiling was strip-
ped off, and all the windows of an
upper room were taken away with it.

On the oOth, at midnight, some-
thing walked into the room, treading
like a bear: it walked many times to
and fro, then threw the warming-pan
violently on the floor; at the same
time a large quantity of broken glass,
accompanied with large stones and
horses' bones, came pouring into the

room with uncommon force. These
were all found in the morning, to the
astonishment and terror of the com-
missioners, who were yet determined
to proceed with the business.

At length, on the 1st of Novem-
ber, the most dreadful scene of all
ensued. Candles were lighted up in
every part of the room, and a great
fire made. At midnight, while the
candles were all burning, a noise,
like the bursting of a cannon, was
heard in the room, and the burning
billets were thrown about by it, even
into the beds of their honours, who
called Giles and his companions to
their relief, otherwise the house had
been burned to the ground. About
an hour afterwards, the candles went
out as usual; an explosion, resem-
bling the discharge of many cannon,
was heard, and many pailfuls of green
stinking water were thrown upon their
honours' beds; great stones were al-
so hurled in as before; the bed-cur-
tains and bedsteads were torn and
broken, the windows shattered, and
the whole neighbourhood alarmed
with the most dreadful noises ; nay,
the very rabbit-stealers, who were
abroad that night in the warren, were
so terrified, that they fled for fear,
and left their ferrets behind them.
One of their honours this night spoke,
and asked, in the name of God, what
it was, and why it disturbed them so ?
No answer was given to this; but the
noise ceased for a while, when the
spirit returned, and as they all agreed,
brought with it seven devils worse
than itself. One of the servants
now lighted a large candle, and set
it in the door-way between the two
chambers to see what passed; and as
he watched it, he plainly saw a hoof
striking the candle and candlestick
into the middle of the room, and af-

326

LEGEND OF THE SPAR-CAVE.

tenvards making three scrapes over
the snuff and scraping it out. Upon
this the same person had the bold-
ness to draw a sword; but lie had
scarcely got it out when he felt an
invisible force pulling it from him:
the latter at length prevailing, struck
him so violent a blow on the head
with the pummel, that he fell down
for dead. At this instant was heard
another burst, like the discharge of
the broadside of a ship of war, and
at intervals of a minute or two, nine-
teen more succeeded: these shook
the house so violently, that they ex-
pected it every moment to fall upon
their heads. The neighbours, being
all alarmed, flocked to the house in
great numbers, and all joined in
prayer and psalm - singing, during
which the noise still continued in
the other rooms, and the discharge
of cannon was heard as from with-
out, though no visible agent was seen
to discharge them.

But what was most alarming of
all, and effectually put an end to the
proceedings of these commissioners,
happened the next day, while they
were all at dinner, when a paper, in
which they had signed a mutual
agreement to reserve a part of the
premises out of the general survey,
and afterwards to share it equally
among themselves, which paper they
had concealed for the present under
the earth in a pot containing an
orange -tree that stood at one cor-

ner of the room, was consumed in a
wonderful manner, by the earth with
which the pot was filled taking fire,
and burning violently with a blue
fume and an intolerable stench, so
that they were all driven out of the
house, to which they could never
again be prevailed upon to return.

These extraordinary particulars
are recorded as authenticated facts
by Dr. Plot in his Natural History of
Oxfordshire ; and he gravely adds,
that " though tricks have often been
played in affairs of this kind, yet
many of the things above related are
not reconcileable with juggling, such
as the loud noises beyond the power
of man to make without such instru-
ments as were not there ; the tearing
and breaking the beds; the throwing
about the fire; the hoof treading out
the candle; and the striving for the
sword and the blow the man received
from the pummel of it."

Notwithstanding these arguments,
the whole affair was the contrivance
of the secretary, the memorable Jo-
seph Collins of Oxford, otherwise
called Funny Joe, who, having en-
gaged himself to the commissioners
by the name of Giles Sharp, by his
knowledge of the private trap-doors
belonging to the house, by the help
of fulminating powder and other che-
mical preparations, and by letting his
fellow-servants into the scheme, car-
ried on the deception without disco-
very to the very last.

GAELIC RELICS.
No. XII.

LEGEND OF THE SPAR-CAVE.

The king and lord of a hundred
isles, the high chief of Clan Colla,
peace-maker of contending warriors

from sea to sea, and the dreadful
blast to scatter all that blow the
embers of feud among sons of the

i.t:gend ov tuk spah-cave.

327

land of hills, the king anil lord of
the isles pacified a feud of genera-
tions between the Macneil, laird of
Collonsay, and the Maclean, laird of
Coll. The lord of the isles engaged
the firm band of brotherhood to quell
those leaders of ancient strife, when
he gave his twin daughters, beaming
in all their loveliness, that the stream
of life for Coll and Collonsay should
roll a mingled tide through ages far
to come. But the breath of feud
may be rekindled by a passing gale
to a tempest, fierce as the lightning
of thunder-rend ed skies, and a con-
test of their vassals for the wreck of
a ship from coasts remote spread a
flame of haughty defiance to the
leaders, and the twin sisters mourn
for a death-dealing rage of steel; but
the pleading voice of their grief is
unheard amidst the din of arms. As
wave answers to wave on the shores
of their isles, the twin sisters lament
the fight of blood, while the roaring
surges toss between them, and the
sisters cannot meet to recall the joys
of their youth. Summers rise in
leafy pride, and winters howl along
the dry whistling grass of the plains,
and the bright smile of peace re-
turns not to the green isles of the
west.

The laird of Collonsay and the
laird of Coll are foremost among
the valiant in Scotland's wars ; and
the saintly brother of the lord of the
isles, the calm-browed abbot of Oron-
say, brings the twin sisters together
to his dome of prayer. Stretched
on the couch of languishing is Echan
cean ard na Laoch* within the holy
walls ; and the leechcraft of the bre-
thren has failed, because of his im-
patient flame of valour, eager to
* The chief of heroes.

Vol. III. No. XVIII.

flash among the sons of snow. In
joy the fever -worn hero laid his
burning cheek upon the bosom of
his mother ; but swelling wrath quick-
ened the heavings of his heart when
the spouse and daughter of Coll ap-
peared. The gentle chieftainess of
Coll hailed in love the twin sister of
her birth, and the high-souled lady
of Collonsay sent forth all her fond-
est welcomes as she clasped the part-
ner of her earliest days; but with
averted looks, cold was the grasp of
Echan's hand, till the soft-voiced
greetings of Suilmigacha entered
his breast, a hidden fire. As a beau-
tiful mist gilded with the crimson
dawn, the blushing maid subdued
the rising gust of hate as she drew
near his couch. With smiles artless
as the babe of yesterday she unbent
his lofty brows, as a moonbeam cheers
the darkling cleft of a precipice; and
though he turned indignant from the
offspring of a foe, his heart and his
eye pursued her light bounding steps.
Fourteen summers had not shone
upon the amber tresses floating over
her neck and breast, as rays of noon
glancing upon the snowy peak of
Jura, and the kids of her green isle
sported not along their native hil-
locks with agility more gladsome.
The twin sisters rejoiced in the love
of years long past; they rejoiced in
the growing strength of Echan, when
bashful awe of the hero departed
from Suilmigacha, as heavy fogs of
summer are dispelled by the light of
morn, and her awakening glee chas-
ed the clouds from his spirit. With
brightened aspect he listened to the
thrilling notes of her harp, or the
more ravishing breath of her song,
recalling the deeds of olden time.
The soul of Echan cean ard na La-
X x

348.

LfiGkND OF THE Sl'AK-CAVU.

och hung on this bud of loveliness, i
as the wild bee roused from chilling
slumbers hovers in delight about the i
first flower of spring; and if her i
sidelong looks met the fiery gaze of ,
his eye, the deep blush of her cheeks,
and the trembling of her hand as i
she swept the strings of the harp, \
warmed his bosom with the hope
that feeds secret sighs of loye. With
tearful sympathy she laid the herb
of healing on his side, white as foamy-
headed billows, dashing, leaping, and
struggling around the roaring, whirl-
ing Corryvrekan; or her soft hand
tenderly chafed his arm, still aching
with the stroke of her people. As
the child earns a smile of Muime,
she called up all his soul, when her
slender fingers sportively divided the
curls of his raven hair, to mix them
with her own flowing tresses; and
with the enchantment of her mirth,
he is raised from the couch of suf-
fering.

The autumn waned, summer pass-
ed away, and spring advanced, when
a light skiff brings a scout to the
abbot of Oronsay, with tidings that
the chiefs return to their isles. The
twin sisters separate in grief, and
Suilmigacha, clasped in the embrace
of Echan, twines her white arms on
his neck, and her mother bade him
impress on her unripened lips a bro-
ther's fond adieus. Their souls min-
gled in this first salute ; their eyes
are fountains of woe when the abbot
hastens the lady of Coll to her swift-
sailing ship. Desolate and forlorn,
the young chief of Collonsay with
straining sight pursues the receding
bark — the image of Suilmigacha re-
mains— fixed in his inmost heart is
the maid: but the maid of his love is
daughter to a foe.; and the gray-
haired chief of Collonsay detests

Clan na Geallanna. Echan is sad
for the rage of his father, yet he
feels the parting kiss of Suilmigacha,
and a soft pressure of her arm re-
turns in his dreams.

The prince of Fellin claims aid
from the unfailing arm of Echan
cean ard na Laoch, and the terror
of his name withers the invaders of
Erin. He returns a meteor of bat-
tles, but thoughts of Suilmigacha
consume his lonely nights : the fire
of his dark-rolling eye is quenched —
sickness of the soul wastes his manly
form — the right hand of valour falls
nerveless on the couch of disease.
The gray-haired leader of Collonsay
lived but in his son; but that he
should wed the daughter of a foe,
would darken his years more than to
lay the last hope of his race beneath
a cairn of the brave, where his ghost,
wandering on all the winds, still bends
to the clouds of a forbidden land.

The gray-haired leader of Collon-
say spreads a flaming light in the
east, and Echan guides his prow to
| Oronsay.

" Brother of my grandsire, and
spiritual father of the mightiest clans,"
he said, " the red cross of holy va-
lour is on my garment; the spear
and lance of Scotia in my hand: with
thy benediction, abbot of Oronsay, I
depart in hope of fame among the
terrible in arms."

" Wide-spreading is thy renown
of former fights, my son," replied
the abbot ; " and thy name shall be
heard on every field of the burning
sandy plains. I bless thee in the
power of the Highest, and his bless-
ing shall be thy shield amidst the
strife of nations; the painim shall
flee before thy fiery glances, and thy
fame shallresound overall the earth."
The arm of Echan turned the fu-

LEGI-ND OF T1IK SPAR-CAVK.

529

rious tide of battles : yet as a moul-
dering spark wastes in secret the
foundations ofa lofty pile,the thoughts
of Suilmigacha prey on his l)iirning
soul. His strength fails; helpless
and doleful, he is wafted to Oron-
say.

The lady of Collonsay and the
lady of Coll have again met within
the holy walls; they meet in care and
sorrow. The lady of Collonsay
mourns her lord and son exposed to
the painim steel; and the lady of
Coll bewails her lord ingulphed in
caverns of the deep. Suilmigacha
is there in all her beauty, full-grown,
as a young birch waving before a
breeze of early morn. Her voice of
love again enters the ear of Echan ;
her white arm raises his drooping
head, and his hollow cheek glows
in the soft light of her blue eyes,
sparkling through tears.

" Our sires were foes, my hero,"
she said; " but with thee, and for
thee, Suilmigacha dies."

" And for Suilmigacha is the
strength of Echan laid low," faintly
spoke the hero. " Angel of my life,
our bridal bed shall be the cold earth
of Oronsay."

<( My children," said the abbot,
" though for me in early youth the
dross of human passion was purified
by a flame divine, not unpitied is
the scorching flame of your bosoms.
Echan dies if Suilmigacha is not
given to his love, and Suilmigacha
pines to the grave for the hero of
her hidden sighs. I give ye to each
other in the Lord, and in the holy sa-
crament of your marriage the feuds
of both your clans shall be healed
for ever. I give ye to each other, if
willing to conceal your fruitful loves
in a caverned recess known only to

the brother of your grandsire — a re-
cess hallowed by the devotions of my
earliest youth."

" Give me but Suilmigacha," said
Echan, " and in her I shall have light
and joy amidst caves untrodden by
the foot of man. Say, maid of my
heart, can the love of Echan cheer
thee in profounds of the earth?"

The blushes of love spoke for Suil-
migacha as she <jave her white hand
to the hero; and the triple bond of
friendship knit between the race of
Oduine and Nielvolda* was their
pledge of safety. The three brothers
of times long past, with their war-
barks, conveyed Echan cean ard na
Laoch and Suilmigacha beneath the
shade of night to the Slochd Altram,
and again and again returned to
spread a feast of plenty within the
stony-girdled retreat. The Muime,
who in early infancy nurtured Suilmi-
gacha, receives her babe, and Echan
exults over his first-born. The deep-
bosomed cave is warmed by love and
joy. The tales of other times are
sweet from the mouth of Echan by
day, and Suilmigacha beguiles the
night with her song; while the Muime
rejoices in the growth of a boy, in
whom are healed the feuds of Col-
lonsay and Coll in all years to come.
In returning frojmthe wars of the
cross, the gray-haired chief of Col-
lonsay has died, and the brothers
come to hail the young leader, and
to bear him from the Slochd Altram
to his own. isles. The gray-haired
chief is with his mighty fathers, and
the name of Echan cean ard na La-
och shall live in the mouth of song.

This relic is of a later date than
those formerly submitted to the pub-
lic; yet it affords a portraiture of an-
* See Repository for December 18:':?.
X x '4

3.30

COURTSHIP OP MADEMOISELLE DE MONTPE NSIEU.

cient modes of feeling and existence,
which probably may seem novel and
interesting to modern readers. We
may venture to say, that our transla-
tions have given views of the charac-
ter, customs, and events among the

Gael, immediately subsequent to the
heroic ages, more intimately than
can be furnished by any publication
now extant, and each bears internal
evidence of antiquity.

B. G.

COURTSHIP OF MADEMOISELLE DE MONTPENSIER.

It is generally known that this la-
dy, niece to Louis XIII. fell in love
with, and was privately married to,
M. de Lauzun, captain of the king's
body-guard; but the details which
the lady herself has left us of the
difficulty she found to reveal her pas-
sion are not so well known, and may
perhaps amuse our readers. We
should premise, that at the time she
conceived this passion she was in
her forty-fourth year. " It seemed
to me," says she, " that the frank-
ness and gaiety with which I spoke
to M. Lauzun could not fail to re-
veal to him what was passing in my
heart; and though he always en-
trenched himself within the bounds
of a profound respect, I hoped ne-
vertheless that he could not but un-
derstand me. One day, after the
usual compliments, I told him that it
was reported that the king (Louis
XIV.) wished me to marry Prince
Charles of Lorraine, and I asked him
if he had heard of it. He replied
no, and strove to persuade me, that
the king would take no step that was
not agreeable to me. At that mo-
ment I desired ardently to open my
heart to him, but I had not the cou-
rage to go on : however, I comforted
myself that I had at least broken off
the conversation in a way that would
allow me to renew it.

" Accordingly, on the following
day, when I again asked what he
thought of this marriage, he replied,

that he considered my present situa-
tion too happy to be rashly changed.
' Here,' said he, ' you are esteemed
and honoured for your virtues, your
merit, and your rank. The king
loves you; he treats you with respect
and affection: what then have you
to wish ? If you had been queen or
empress in a foreign country, you
would be ennuied to death: these
conditions are very little superior to
your own, and you would have the
trouble to study the humour of your
husband and of the people with
whom you must live. I cannot con-
ceive that you would find in such a
situation the sweet and tranquil plea-
sures you now enjoy.' "

This speech was not certainly very
encouraging, for M. de Lauzun did
not seem to consider that love was
a necessary ingredient in the lady's
happiness. She, however, contrived
to let him know that she thought
otherwise, for she avowed that she
meant to make the fortune of a pri-
vate gentleman. He then enlarged
upon the difficulty of finding a man
whose birth and merit were suffici-
ently great to justify all that the
princess intended to do for him.

Mademoiselle de Montpensier re-
plied, that there was no difficulty in
discovering such a man, since he
was already found : but all her ef-
forts to excite the curiosity of the
provoking De Lauzun were vain;
she could not get him to put the

THE MAGIC GOBLtT.

331

question, " Who is he ?" And to say
absolutely " It is you," was rather
embarrassing even for an enamoured
virgin of forty-four. In this em-
barrassment a •whimsical expedient
presented itself. " I have a mind,"
said she to him, " to blow upon the
glass, and to trace the name of my
intended husband upon it in large
letters." Her heart, however, failed
her; she put off the intended ex-
planation till the next day, and then
when he was quitting her, she slip-
ped into his pocket a billet, contain-
ing only the words — " It is you."

One would have thought the affair
was finished, and that the gentleman
had nothing to do but express his
gratitude and rapture : no such thing ;
this provokingly modest M. de Lau-
zun was determined to be incredu-
lous. They met the next day at the
queen's, and he said to mademoi-
selle, " I am not such a fool as to
fall into the snare you laid for me in
your billet of yesterday: I know very
well you love to divert yourself; but
I am not so vain as to be the dupe
of such a trick."

Here was a turn which might have

put an end to the passion of a lady
less enamoured. We know not in
what way she contrived at last to
open his eyes, but she did open
them ; and they were privately mar-
ried, because the king, who had at
first given his consent to the match,
was afterwards prevailed upon by
the remonstrances of the queen and
of the Prince de Conde to revoke it.
Lauzun attributing part of his
disgrace to Madame de Montespan,
expressed himself in such terms re-
specting her, that the king imprison-
ed him during ten years at Pignerol.
It is probable that this circumstance
had the effect of completely souring
a temper which must have been na-
turally brutal, for he behaved ex-
tremely ill to his wife on his return.
A house which she had built at
Choisy first caused a misunderstand-
ing between them: he reproached
her incessantly with what he called
a waste of money, plunged into gam-
ing and debauchery, and finally ren-
dered her so miserable, that she be-
came as anxious to part from him as
she had been to unite herself to him.

Adhim, the sultan of India, was
more fortunate than monarchs were
in his time, or even in our own; for
he had a vizier who always told him
the truth. Incredible as this circum-
stance will appear to those prime
ministers who may do us the honour
of reading our tale, it is nevertheless
a fact; for which we have the autho-
rity of the sage Aboulcasem, from
whose valuable manuscripts we have
taken the substance of the following
story. Adhim, the sultan of India,
and the most valiant monarch of

THE MAGIC GOBLET.

his time, was once rescued from im-
pending death in the field of battle
by one of his soldiers, who threw
himself between the sultan and the
enemy, and received in his own bo-
som the weapon aimed at the heart
of his prince. Heaven had decreed
that the soldier's life should not pay
the forfeit of his generous devotion;
he recovered ; and Adhim wished to
shew his gratitude by heaping riches
and honours upon him. But the
gifts of Adhim were humbly but re-
solutely rejected by Misnar: possess-

oor.\

THE MAGIC GO 13 LET.

cd of the means to live, lie had taken
up arms only to aid in repelling an
invasion with which his country was
menaced, and he had no wish be-
yond that of finishing his days on
the spot he had inherited from his
forefathers.

Adhim failed to engage him in his
service, but he did not for that es-
teem him the less, and he not unfre-
quently sought in the humble dwell-
ing of Misnar a relaxation from the
cares of the throne. Every day in-
creased his attachment to this man,
in whom he discovered so much
wisdom and goodness, that he at
length offered him the post of vizier ;
and when Misnar, with humble ac-
knowledgments for his royal mas-
ter's bounty, declined it, Adhim did
not as before acquiesce in his deter-
mination: he peremptorily insisted
on knowing his reasons; and Misnar,
thus pressed, replied: " From my
youth, O royal Adhim! I have never
been able to conceal or deny what I
thought was the truth: judge then
how ill I should be suited to a place
where my sincerity must be for ever
giving offence. I should soon be
surrounded by enemies ; all my ac-
tions would be misrepresented; I
should lose your royal favour; and
even if I escaped with life, I should
be consigned again with ignominy to
that obscurity from which your boun-
ty had raised me."

" Misnar," said the sultan, " you
wrong your sovereign: fear not that
the truth will ever be offensive to
me, or that the machinations of my
courtiers can ever deprive thee of my
protection. Dismiss then those unjust
apprehensions, and take the post to
which I wish to raise thee."

Misnar prostrated himself and
obeyed. Adhim swayed the scep-

tre of India with a mildness which
gained him the surname of the Be-
neficent, and his views were worthi-
ly seconded by his faithful Misnar.
The vizier was right: his frankness
created for him a multitude of ene-
mies; but their machinations served
only to root him more firmly than
ever in the favour of Adhim, who,
whenever they were in private, laid
aside his rank, and conversed with
his minister as an equal and a friend.
The cares of the throne were one
day their subject. " They are weigh-
ty," said Adhim, " but they would
be insupportable were it not for thy
attachment and fidelity, and the love
of my women. My courtiers are de-
ceitful and interested; they talk of
their attachment to me, but in reality
they regard me only as an instru-
ment to forward their ambitious views :
but my women love me for myself.
What thinkest thou?" continued the
sultan, finding that Misnar did not
reply. — " I think," said the vizier,
" that Adhim is not less a monarch
to his women than to his courtiers:
real love deals not in profession, and
the language of adulation is not less
that of deceit because it comes from
the lips of beauty."

" Misnar!" cried the sultan smil-
ing, " the court has at last corrupted
thee: thou wouldst make me dissa-
tisfied with all others, that I may va-
lue thee the more." The vizier re-
plied with equal gaiety, and the con-
versation ceased; but the words of
Misnar dwelt upon the mind of Ad-
him, and poisoned the pleasure he
used to take in the society of his
women. " Vizier," said he one day,
" I would give my richest province
to satisfy the doubts which thou hast
raised of the attachment of my wo-
men: is there, thinkest thou, any

THE MAGIC GOBDE'f.

333

method to prove it?" Misnar owned
that there was, but he besought his
royal master not to seek for certain-
ty where certainty might deprive him
of the sweetest pleasure of hie life,
that of believing himself beloved.
His arguments were vain, the sultan
impatiently demanded the proof, and
Misnar presented him with an an-
tique goblet. " This goblet," said
he, " has descended to me from my
forefathers; it possesses no virtue but
antiquity: nevertheless it may be made
a means of ascertaining what you
wish. Inform such of the sultanas
as you wish to prove, that a draught
taken from it possesses the power
of giving to a wife who truly loves
her husband a beauty almost celes-
tial; but to her whose whole heart
is not truly and purely devoted to
her love, the draught becomes a
mortal poison, and she expires as
soon as she has tasted it. The sultan
received the cup, and so impatient
was he to solve his doubts, that he
determined to make the experiment
that very day.

The first to whom he presented
it was the fair Casema. " Light of
the seraglio," cried he, " I bring thee
a means of rendering thy beauty if
possible still more resplendent;" and
presenting it to her, he explained its
use, taking care to dwell upon the
certain effects of the poison. The
beautiful Casema turned pale, but
speedily recovering, and throwing
herself at the feet of the sultan,
" The ardour of my love for thee,
O mighty Adhim," said she, " must
not render me unjust. It is the Sul-
tana Shelima who has given thee an
heir to thy throne: to her then it
belongs of right first to essay the
virtue of the cup; and even the op-

portunity of proving my faith to thee
must not make me deprive her of it."

" Ah! thou base hypocrite!" mut-
tered the angry and disappointed
Adhim, as he quitted her to make a
trial of the faith of Shelima. " O
Adhim!" cried she, " thou knowest
the excess of my love, and how glad-
ly I would prove it even at the ex-
pense of my life, but I dare not draw
upon myself the vengeance of heaven
by having recourse to magic." This
speech went to the heart of Adhim,
for Shelima was she of whose love
he had believed himself most secure;
and it was almost without hope that
he presented the cup to the young
Muimuna, who excused herself from
using it, because she was conscious
that the excess of her love for Ad-
him exceeded that of all his other
wives; and she feared lest the extra-
ordinary charms which thecup would
bestow upon her would create among
them enemies, who might at last suc-
ceed in depriving her of the heart
of the sultan.

Hope was now so extinguished in
the breast of Adhim, that he Heard
without surprise the various excuses
made by the other sultanas to whom
he offered the cup in turn ; and be-
fore the evening, it had been reject-
ed by all except Zulma, a young
slave, who had made so little impres-
sion on the mind of the sultan, that
he thought not of proving her faith.

Adhim retired to muse in the so-
litude of his chamber over the bitter
disappointment which his vizier's love
of truth had prepared for him, and
to wish that he had still remained in
that ignorance which constituted the
pleasure of his life : but the charm
was dissolved; he felt that the smile
of beauty could no longer bring joy

3.34

TIIF. SKILFUL POLITICIAN.

to his heart, and lie determined on
the following morning to dismiss his
women.

He was deep in reflection when
he was told that Zulma prayed per-
mission to kiss his footstool. " What
wonklst thou?" said he, raising her
as she prostrated herself before him.
— " Justice." — " Who has wronged
thee?"—" Thyself: what has Zulma
done that thou hast not granted to
her the privilege of proving her faith
to thee ?"

The heart of Adhim throbbed
with transport as he replied, " Thou
art yet, Zulma, but in the very morn-
ing of life; it is a season when the
affections cannot be said to be fixed:
think then, Zulma, to what thou ex-
posest thyself."

Zulma extended her hand for the
cup, which she emptied at a draught.

At that moment she appeared in the
eyes of Adhim as lovely as tbough
the cup really possessed the power
which he had attributed to it. The
sultan clasped her in his arms. " Re-
ceive, Zulma," cried he, " the re-
ward of thy love and truth : from this
moment thou reignest sole sovereign
over the heart of Adhim, and never
shalt thou have a rival."

Faithful to his royal word, he dis-
missed his other women, and caused
it to be proclaimed throughout his
kingdom, that the love and truth of
Zulma had exalted her to a share in
his throne. Happy in her affections
and the attachment of his faithful
Misnar, he lived to a good old age,
without regretting that he had sacri-
ficed the smiles of meretricious beau-
ty for the attachment of one faithful
heart.

THE SKILFUL

Wiif.n the transformation of the
Batavian republic into a kingdom
was on the tapis, Napoleon com-
manded Talleyrand, at that time mi-
nister for foreign affairs, to furnish
him in a week with a memorial calcu-
lated to convince the rulers of this
republic, that their form of govern-
ment did not harmonize at all with the
system universally adopted through-
out Europe; and that the only ex-
pedient for preserving the independ-
ence of their country in the then po-
litical state of the Continent, was the
election of a king of the Buonaparte
family. On leaving the Tuileries,
Talleyrand ran through in thought
the whole list of his ordinary assist-
ants : he then applied successively to
Messrs. Hauterive, Roux Laborie,
and the Abbe des Renaudes; but
they all declared themselves incapa-

POLIT1CIAN.

ble of furnishing a work of such ex-
tent in so short a time. His excel-
lency then bethought him of M.
Esmenard, whom he was accustomed
to call familiarly Figaro. He sent
for him, and begged him to furnish
the memorial in question, for which
he promised him 280 louis-d'ors.
Figaro undertook the task, and on
the day appointed he delivered the
memorial, with which Talleyrand,
the emperor, and in short every body
— excepting perhaps the States Ge-
neral— were highly satisfied.

The good people of Amsterdam
were perfectly sensible that commu-
nications of this nature differ from
express commands in nothing but the
form : it was, however, resolved to
make a last effort. All the diplo-
matic men gave their assistance, and
contributed their observations. These

CURIOUS COINCIDENCES IN DATES.

335

were collected and transmitted to
the Dutch ambassador at Paris, with
directions to employ some French
homme de lettres to arrange and con-
nect them, and then to present the
result to the emperor as a reply to his
memorial. The ambassador chanced
to be personally acquainted with M.
Esmenard: he was the very man to
execute this commission ; and to him
he accordingly applied. " It is a
work," said he, " which is of the
utmost consequence to the States
General, and for which they will pay
liberally : I am directed to offer 500
louis-d'ors." Aha ! said Figaro to
himself — 500 louis-d'ors are not to
be despised, and I should be a great
fool to let such a prize slip through
my fingers into the hands of one of
my colleagues. In short, Figaro
promised to do what was required.
The ambassador was delighted: he
was far from suspecting that M.
Esmenard had any hand in the plan
submitted to the States General ; and
M. Esmenard on his part had too

much good sense to boast of his par-
ticipation in it.

Figaro commenced and soon fi-
nished his work; and as it is right to
give even the devil his due, it must
be admitted, that he conscientiously
executed his commission, and fur-
nished the States General with a ca-
pital performance for their money.
The answer was in fact far more con-
vincing than the memorial. The
ambassador presented it to the mi-
nister for foreign affairs, who was
equally astonished at the strength of
the arguments adduced against his
master's plan, and at the elegance
of the style of this diplomatic docu-
ment. The emperor as loudly ex-
pressed his surprise ; all the members
of the imperial council talked of it,
but nobody could guess the real au-
thor. It was not till many years af-
terwards that Figaro himself, in a
moment of unreserved good-humour,
mentioned the trick that he had thus
played his patron.

CURIOUS COINCIDENCES IN DATES.

Henry IV. had fourteen letters in
his name, Henri de Bourbon; lived
four times fourteen years, gained the
battle of Ivry on the 14th of March,
was repulsed before Paris the 14th
of May, had his son, Louis XIII.
baptized on the 14th of August, and
was assassinated on the 14th of May.
Louis XIII. likewise died on the 14th
of May. We find the same number
recurring in many other circumstan-
ces of Henry's history. The oath
of the League, by which his partisans
bound themselves to support and
obey him, was taken on the 14th of
November, 1590; the Leaguers met

Vul III. No, XVIII.

on the 14th of November, 1591, at
the house of the cure of St. Jaques;
the act of Parliament which, in con-
sequence of full powers from the
Pope, elected another king instead
of Charles IX. and excluded Henry
of Bourbon from the throne, was
brought in on the 14th of Novem-
ber, 1592; the town of Dun fell into
the king's power on the 14th of De-
cember, 1592; the Duke de Feria
on the 14th of July, 1593, promised
the Infanta Isabella, daughter of the
King of Spain, to the Duke of Guise ;
the protest of the Parliament against
all previous proceedings was dated
Y Y

o3()

CHRISTMAS FESTIVITIES IN THE SOUTH OF FRANCE.

the 14th of January, 1594; the loyal
Parliament of Tours made its entry
into Paris on the 14th of April, 1591;
the Duke of Savoy was reconciled
with Henry IV. on the 14th Decem-
ber, 1599, at Fontainebleau; the de-
puties of the Swiss cantons arrived
at Paris on the 14th of October,
1602; Henry, when preparing for
the campaign against the Duke de
Bouillon, commended his son to the
Parliament on the 14th of March,
1606; and Sully solicited permission
to resign on the 14th of January,
1611.

A fact still more extraordinary
than all the rest is, that in 1554,
Henry II. being then at Compiegne,
issued an order for the demolition of
the stalls and shops which obstructed
the rue de la Feronncrie near the

church-yard des Innocens. The non-
fulfilment of this order occasioned
the death of Henry IV. fifty-six
years afterwards: for it was at this
narrow part of the street that the
royal carriage was stopped by two
carts, so that Ravaillac had time to
execute his sanguinary design. The
order of Henry II. was dated the
14th of May; consequently on the
very same day of the month that
Henry IV. was assassinated.

These coincidences, which may at
first sight appear surprising, will cease
to astonish, when it is considered that
a great country and a great monarch
are furnishing something of interest
almost every day, and that it would
not be difficult to find parallel cases
in a like period of time.

CHRISTMAS FESTIVITIES IN THE SOUTH OF FRANCE.

On the approach of Christmas,
every family in good circumstances
lays in its stock of muscadel and its
store of southern fruits, which are
at that season to be found in profu-
sion on the quays and in the ware-
houses of the port. The flower-
market is gay with a profusion of
native beauties of the parterre, and
of the additional exotics there are
oranges, rich in flower, leaf, and
fruit; citrons, roses in ornamental
vases, limes in ornamented tubs,
and laurel-trees hung round with all
kinds of fruit, for the gratification of
the youthful populace. For children
also are provided various pretty toys;
clay and earthen figures in various
characters and costumes; storks
made Of paper or of wool, with their
long red beaks, and every plaything
which invention can suggest.

The Christmas festival is conse-

crated to mirth and joy. All the
shops, every cellar, every coffee-
house, is gaily illuminated. The the-
atres are open for grand ballets ; the
gaming-houses give balls and. sup-
pers. Musicians patrole the streets,
which are all night filled with pas-
sengers.

But the most interesting character
of this festival, that which preserves
it in the recollection of every Pro-
vencal through time and space, is its
attribute of promoting peace and
good-will to all men. In private fa-
milies the social harmonies are re-
stored at that season under every
circumstance of real or accidental
estrangement: those relations who
have during the whole year before
been separated by any cause, now
make a point of meeting each other
in friendship; enemies are reconciled;
marriages concluded : husbands and

BARRY THE PHILANTHROPIST.

337

wives who have been parted are re-
united ; the most diffident lover be-
comes animated and eloquent; the
most coy maiden relaxes into smiles
and assent. Every heart yields to
kindly and social affections: " for,"
say the guests, " it is Christmas-
time."

It is well known that in many real
old country families certain dishes
and certain customs are indispensable
to the keeping Christmas in France,
such as the cake made of honey and
almonds, the enormous turkey, the
cuUgnau, answering to the yule or
Christmas log put on the fire : it is a
pine or fir log, on which are sprin-
kled oil and wine, either to make it
burn more briskly, or to typify the
plenty of the feast. The muscadel
and the carols, the rural games
of the villages and peasantry, where
the ancient customs are always more
characteristic of national feeling than
in towns, are nearly the same in
many countries. They consist of
cock-fighting, wrestling, foot-races,
competition in climbing poles, sing-
ing, and bell-ringing: but there is
one peculiar to Lower Provence
which is worthy of notice. It is ob-
served more in the neighbourhood
of Frejus and Antibes than else-
where, and is as follows :

Every Sunday for the four Sun-
days preceding Christmas, it is the
custom for the village youths to treat

the assembled maidens with a sere-
nade, which is called abundes: the
eldest of the young men is called the
Aba; and. it is usual in return for the
gallantry of the serenade for each
young woman to send to the Aba be-
fore Christmas a tart, cake, sweet-
meat, or some delicacy marked with
the name of the sender. On the
subsequent holiday there is a great
assembly of the whole village, and
the tarts are thus disposed of: The
Aba ascends a sort of scaffold or
raised platform, like an auctioneer.
Near him is placed the pile of cakes,
&c. in an ornamented basket or tray,
gay with ribbons and streamers. The
Aba takes out a tart, and raises it
on high. " Here is an elegant, sweet,
nice, pretty, light apple-tart, made
by Maria Coutelere, No . 1 ." Then fol-
lows a panegyric on the beauty, vir-
tue, ingenuity, industiy, and skill of
the fair confectioner ; and instantly
all Maria Coutelere's admirers com-
mence an eager bidding for the tart,
until it is surrendered by the Aba to
the richest or most persevering bid-
der. The next tart or cake is dis-
posed of with the same ceremonies
and eulogies on the sender, and all
are purchased with equal avidity.
The sum thus collected is generally
appropriated to supply the village
fund for dancing, music, and other
rural amusements.

BARRY THE PHILANTHROPIST.

Not long since a personage dis-
tinguished for philanthropy and cou-
rage, and to whose efforts at differ-
ent times at least forty persons owed
their lives, expired at Berne in Switz-
erland. The name of this philan-
thropist was Barry. He belonged

to an ecclesiastical order, and never
went out without a broad collar, which
indicated his vocation and profession.
He was frequently to be seen carry-
ing nourishing soup to the sick, but
more commonly with a bottle of pure
spring water to refresh their spirits,
Y y 2

338

MAXIMS.

or to recal them to life, when lan-
guishing with thirst or perishing
with cold. It is engaged in this hu-
mane occupation that he has been
delineated by a Swiss artist in a work
published at Berne.

This generous creature terminated
his beneficent peregrinations, not on
two legs, but on four; for, gentle
reader, Barry was a dog, and belong-
ed to the hospital on the Great St.
Bernard. He had actually been the
means of rescuing from death up-
wards of forty victims. His instinct
for this employment was truly asto-
nishing, and his zeal and persever-
ance indefatigable. When fogs, tem-
pests, snow-storms, or other dangers
threatened destruction to the travel-
ler, he would sally forth, and nothing
could detain him. If he found a
wanderer who had lost his way, per-
haps plunged in deep snow-drifts
and half frozen with cold, he would
afford him assistance, and serve him
as a guide. If it was not in his pow-

er to aid the stranger by himself, he
would hasten back to the hospital,
and conduct some of the brethren to
the spot where the unfortunate tra-
veller lay.

In the print alluded to above, the
artist has represented by the side of
this noble animal a young child which
he rescued alone. He found it one
day asleep in a hollow of a glacier,
and almost stiff with cold. Barry
warmed the poor child, awoke, de-
livered the bottle to it, and when it
had refreshed itself, he carried it on
his back to the convent.

Having exhausted his strength in
this humane vocation, the prior sent
him to Berne, there to pass the re-
mainder of his days in repose. Great
care was taken of him, and he at-
tained an age unusual with his spe-
cies. Since his death he has been
embalmed, or to speak more correct-
ly, stuffed, and is now exhibited to
the curious in the Museum at Berne,
with his bottle and his collar.

Sef. much — admire little.
Hear much — believe little.
Know much — speak little.

MAXIMS.

The discontented man is never rich .

Shun many things — fear few things.
Give much — take little.
Labour much — command little.

It is melancholy but salutary to
know one's-self.

It is pleasant but dangerous not
to know one's-self.

The contented man is never poor.

Children tell what they do; old
people what they have done; and
fools what they could do.

Every vain man is more or less a
liar.

I know, is the expression of a con-
ceited blockhead ; I don't know, of a
fool.

I know that I know nothing, says
the wise man.

.339

THE CONFESSIONS OF A RAMBLER.
No. IX.

I promised in my last to relate the
history of Mr. and Mrs. Ridley; I
shall now redeem that promise with-
out any further preface.

Mr. Macleod inhabited a snug cot-
tage of moderate dimensions, situat-
ed on the banks of a small but plea-
sant stream that watered the county
of Fife; it was sheltered from the
cold north-easterly winds by the um-
brageous woods with which it was
surrounded, and in whose leafy bo-
som it seemed buried; and a high
and broken country bounded the view
across the river, giving a romantic
appearance to the whole. The fa-
mily which tenanted this mansion
consisted of Mr. and Mrs. Macleod
and an only daughter, the dear child
of their affections and their hopes.
At the period at which I mean to
take up their history, she was about
seventeen years of age ; her figure
was rather inclined to be tall, but it
was finely formed; and her face was
exquisitely beautiful. She had a
finely arched forehead, soft languish-
ing blue eyes, that darted ever and
anon beams of light and intelligence
around; her pretty dimpled mouth
when it separated disclosed two rows
of the brightest pearl ; and the rich
bloom of health and innocence man-
tled on her cheeks, where

*■ Her pure and eloquent blood —

So divinely wrought,
That you'd have almost said her body
thought."

In this seclusion, no wonder that
Maria was the darling of her pa-
rents, and the delight of the few fa-
voured individuals who were admit-
ted to their acquaintance. The num-
ber of these was indeed few: choice,

not necessity, had driven Mr. Mac-
leod to this retreat; and when he
selected it, it was with the deter-
mination of devoting himself to the
society of his wife and the education
of his child, and not to suffer his
quiet to be invaded by any but con-
genial minds. Here then the lovely
Maria bloomed the fairest flower in
the parterre, the richest ornament
of the surrounding country, the dear-
est treasure of her family, and the
pride and boast of her friends.

It was in the month of September
1775; the trees were just assum-
ing that golden tint which, when
illumined by the rays of the sun,
gives them an appearance truly mag-
nificent; the reapers were at Mrork
in the fields, and the sportsman pur-
sued with eager zest the work of
death among the feathered tribes,
whilst a bright autumnal sun shed
happiness and joy around, when Ma-
ria and her father were treading the
mazes of a favourite walk amid the
scenes of the grove which skirted
their rural dwelling. They had not
proceeded far, when the noise of
footsteps in that sequestered place,
so seldom trod by human feet, ex-
cept their own, for one moment ra-
ther startled and alarmed them ; and
in the next a young and handsome
man, in a sportsman's dress, with a
double-barrelled gun in his hand,
stood before them. His first emo-
tion was evidently surprise at meet-
ing so much loveliness in that se-
cluded spot; but when Mr. Macleod,
after the customary salute to strang-
ers, was passing on, he said, " Par-
don me, sir, but I have been out
shouting this morning, leaving the

140

TIIK CONFESSIONS OF A KAMIILKR.

lodge of my friend, Sir George
Cochrane, at an early hour, and have
so bewildered myself that I cannot
find an outlet from this wood : would
you direct me to the high-road, or
to any quarter which would lead me
in that direction ?" These words were
uttered in a tone of ingenuous mo-
desty, which immediately won Mr.
Macleod's regard ; and as the dis-
tance to the lodge was considerable,
he courteously invited the stranger
to his cottage to take some refresh-
ment. I need scarcely say that the
invitation was eagerly accepted.

Thus was laid the foundation of
an acquaintance which soon ripened
into mutual esteem between the
stranger and the two elders of the
family, and into love between him
and the beautiful Maria. His con-
nections were respectable, and not
unknown to Mr. Macleod ; and, in a
few months after the first introduc-
tion, with the consent of her friends,
he led the blooming girl to the altar.

Although no harsh and stem pa-
rent, or crabbed guardian, forbade
the union of Captain Ridley and Ma-
ria Macleod, yet for some years they
fully exemplified the truth of Shak-
speare's remark, that
" The course of true love never did run

smooth :
For, if there were a sympathy in choice,
War, death, or sickness did lay siege to it;
Making it momentary as a sound,
Swift as a shadow, short as any dream ;
Brief as the lightning in the vollied night,
That, in a spleen, unfolds both heaven and

earth,
And ere a man hath power to say — behold !
The jaws of darkness do devour it up :
So quick bright things come to confusion."

The first few months after their
union were spent in unalloyed felici-
ty at the cottage of Mr. M. ; but
this " was happiness too exquisite to
last!" The disputes between Eng-

land and her unnatural colonies had
ended in hostilities, and the regiment
in which Charles Ridley held a com-
mission was ordered abroad. He
was too true a soldier to disobey
the calls of honour, though the elo-
quent entreaties of Mrs. Macleod,
and the silent but not less impressive
tears of his beloved wife, urged his
stay, imploring him to give up his
commission, and to live for love alone.
To this the noble mind of Charles
Ridley would not give an assent ; and,
dreadful as was the pang of parting
with all he held dear on earth, he
tore himself away, leaving his ador-
ed Maria to the tender consolations
of her parents. Her grief was nei-
ther loud nor boisterous, but it was
fixed and settled in her heart. She
prayed fervently for the safety of her
husband, and the only periods when
a smile illumined her now pale fea-
tures, were when some inward as-
surance afforded her the hope that
her prayer would be answered ; or
when she received intelligence, ei-
ther through his letters or the me-
dium of the papers, of the safety and
increasing fame of her husband.

Months passed away, and some-
thing like composure was restored to
the breast of Maria, when descend-
ing one morning to the breakfast-
room, she found it unoccupied, and
the servant entering with the Lon-
don paper, she eagerly seized and
opened it, and began to peruse the
news from America, always the
source of vivid interest and deep
emotion. She had not read many
lines, when her colour changed, and
in a few minutes she fell senseless
on the ground. The noise of her
fall brought in the family, and re-
storatives were administered : she re-
covered, however, only to exhibit the

THE CONFESSIONS OF A RAMTJLEIl.

541

aspect of the wildest despair. To
inquiries as to the cause of her dis-
order, she would make no reply, but,
pointing to the paper, again relapsed
into insensibility. That soon ex-
plained the cause: the very first ar-
ticle was an account of a skirmish
which had taken place between a
party appointed to convoy some pro-
visions for the army, under Major
Ridley (to which rank he had lately
been promoted), and a detachment of
the enemy, who, by dint of superior
numbers, had succeeded in defeating
the British, many of whom fell, and
the rest, amongst whom was their
commander, were made prisoners.

It was long before returning ease
shed her light over the distracted
senses of Mrs. Ridley. She was
confined to her bed for a fortnight,
during which constant delirium pre-
vailed, and in her paroxysms she
talked of nothing but immediately
departing to join her husband. The
idea thus started in insanity became
the fixed purpose of her soul when
health and perception again return-
ed. In vain did her friends seek to
argue her out of a project so fidl of
difficulty and of danger. Her con-
stant reply was, " My husband is in
prison ; they will not deny me access
to him; and who is so proper to ad-
minister to his necessities, to sooth
his woes, as his wife ? I must go to
him." She now took every precau-
tion to recover her strength, and
made every necessary preparation for
her journey. Mr. and Mrs. Maeleod
saw and wondered at the heroic firm-
ness which sustained her ; they fear-
ed to talk on the subject, finding
that opposition only rendered her
more settled and confirmed in her de-
termination, contenting themselves
with narrowly Matching her, in order

that she might not leave her abode
without their knowledge, fully re-
solved that she should never embark
in what they considered such a mad-
brained scheme with their consent.

The only man-servant in the fa-
mily was John Hammond, who had
been born in the service of Mr. Rid-
ley's father, had accompanied Charles
when he entered the army, and had
been left by him to attend on Mrs.
Ridley, when he went with his regi-
ment to America. This young man
was devotedly attached to his mas-
ter. He heard of his mistress's de-
termination to proceed to join him
with joy, and resolved to do all in
his power to forward her views. Mrs.
Ridley wished to make him the com-
panion of her voyage, assured, that
on his fidelity she could place a firm
reliance, whilst his presence would
afford her protection and support.
She took an early opportunity of
conferring with him, when he cheer-
fully agreed to accompany her; and
they arranged together a plan for
her departure, which they calculated
would enable them to elude the vigi-
lance of Mr. and Mrs. Maeleod. Mrs.
Ridley having prepared such neces-
saries as she expected would be use-
ful to her, packed them up in as
small a compass as possible for the
convenience of flight. A purse, which
contained a sum of money, the gift
of her dear Charles, she wore con-
stantly in her bosom, and her jewels
she secreted in the bundle with her
clothes. All these preparations wrere
made with a quiet perseverance, which
proved how much her heart was bent
upon accomplishing her object. In
the mean time, John had been no
less vigilant: he had procured an im-
pression of the keys of the stable
and of the outward gate in wax, and

342

THE CONFESSIONS OF A KAMHLEK.

got new ones made ; lie also manu-
factured a ladder of rope, which he
concealed in his own apartment till
the period for using it was arrived,
and waited with impatience the or-
ders of his mistress to depart.

Two months had now elapsed from
the day on which Mrs. Ridley learnt
the fate of her husband ; her strength
and health were fully restored, and
she determined no longer to delay
her departure. John Hammond re-
ceived her orders to convey the rope-
ladder to her chamber, and to be
in waiting under her window after
the family had retired to rest ; and to
enable him to do this without dis-
turbing them by getting out of the
house, he obtained leave to spend
the day and night abroad; and re-
turning after dark, he let himself in-
to the stable by means of his own
key, remaining there till the appoint-
ed hour arrived. That night, when
Mrs. Ridley took leave of her pa-
rents, she could scarcely conceal her
emotions: when they blessed her as
usual, she burst into tears, and flung
herself upon her mother's neck, who
strove to comfort and console her,
whilst her father exhorted her to for-
titude and resignation. At length
she reached the chamber, where she
spent the time in prayer, till the
hour arrived when she had ordered
Hammond to be in attendance. She
then placed her candle in the window,
the signal agreed upon between them,
and a low rustling noise beneath
convinced her that her faithful at-
tendant was there. She hastily ar-
rayed herself in her travelling dress,
deposited a letter on the table for her
parents, threw out her bundle, and
affixed the ladder of ropes to the
casement, and cautiously descending,
was received by Hammond, who stood

! anxiously watching the event of the
| enterprise. All was still; every other
inmate of the mansion seemed sunk
in the deepest repose; even the dog,
generally so watchful, stirred not,
awoke not, and the two fugitives suc-
ceeded in procuring horses from the
stable and in getting out of the
grounds undiscovered. Hammond
had ascertained that some transports
were to sail from the port of Leith
with troops as soon as the wind was
favourable; and they accordingly
took the route for Edinburgh. I
cannot gratify my readers with a nar-
rative of any hair-breadth escapes
and perilous adventures in this peri-
od of their journey; for they reached
Edinburgh without interruption, and
through the kindness of the com-
mander of the troops, to whom Mrs.
Ridley made herself known, they
obtained accommodations on board
one of the transports, which sailed
the next day ; and in thirty days this
faithful wife was landed at Philadel-
phia, and breathed once more the
same air with her beloved Charles.

But who can describe the conster-
nation of her parents when her flight
Was discovered? As, since she had
heard of her husband's captivity, she
frequently remained in her room till
late, on which occasions she never
would have her breakfast sent to
her chamber, but always preferred
taking it when she came down stairs,
nothing was thought of her not be-
ing in the breakfast-room at the hour
at which the family usually took that
meal. The servant was sent to an-
nounce it, and returned saying, her
mistress she believed was asleep, for
the door was still fast, and she could
not make her hear. Mr. and Mrs.
Macleod took their breakfast,, and
pursued their usual avocations : eleven

ANECDOTES, &C. HISTORICAL, • LITERARY, AND PERSONAL.

fi43

o'clock came, still Maria did not ap-
pear; and the servant was again sent
to inquire, whether she was worse
than usual and required any assist-
ance. She had scarcely left the room
upon her errand when Mr. Macleod
entered. He had been walking in
the garden, and discovered the lad-
der of ropes pendent from Maria's
window. With the afflicted mother,
he went to the chamber, which was
deserted, and all their fears were
confirmed. The letter left by Mrs.
Ridley was as follows:

" My dear Parents,

" Do not be angry with me for
having once in my life deceived you. I
go to seek my dear Charles; to share
his imprisonment ; to nurse, to attend upon
him; and I go assured of the protection
of that Almighty Being, who will never
desert a wife who flies to aid her husband
when he is in misery and distress. Pur-
suit will be useless ; for every thing is so

well arranged for my flight, that it will
be impossible to overtake me; and faith-
ful Hammond is my companion, who will
act as a guide and protector. One thing
only pains me: I depart without your bless-
ing on my enterprise. O my dear pa-
rents ! bless your child, and pray the Al-
mighty to give me health and fortitude
to go through with the task I have under-
taken.

" Adieu, my dear parents! Pray for
and bless your affectionate child,

Maria Ridley."

They did pray for and bless her;
and when they received a letter, an-
nouncing that she had sailed under
the protection of Colonel Dorville,
they felt that their prayer had been
answered.

I cannot conclude the story of this
| interesting family in this paper; I
! must reserve it for my next.

A Rambler.

ANECDOTES, &c.
HISTORICAL, LITERARY, AND PERSONAL.

THE DUKE D ANGOULEME AND BARON
THE ACTOR.

On the recent return of the Duke
d'Angouleme from Spain, the Cid
by Corneille was performed at Paris
in celebration of that event. The
prince was present, and the numer-
ous allusions were seized and appli-
ed with enthusiasm. Among others,
the well-known passage,

Je suis jeune, il est vrai, maisaux ames bien

nees
La va'Ieur n'attend pas le nombre des an-

nees,
was received with unbounded ap-
plause. The duke nevertheless, be
it remembered, is forty-eight years
old.

This circumstance reminds us of
Vol, III. No. XVIII.

Baron, the French actor, who, after
he had long withdrawn from the
stage, again appeared in his 68th
year, in the character of Rodrigue
in the Cid. He had of course to
deliver the lines quoted above, and
no sooner had he pronounced the
words, Je suis jeune, than an invo-
luntary laugh burst from all parts of
the house. Baron was nettled, and
again began, Je suis jeune, but the
laughter became still more general
and uncontroulable. The enraged
performer advanced to the front of the
stage. " Gentlemen," said he, ad-
dressing the house, " I will repeat
the verse a third time; but I declare
to you, that if but one of you laughs
Z z

su,

ANECDOTIC, See. HISTORICAL, LfTKRARY, AND PERSONAL.

I will not go on with the piece, and
will quit the stage for ever." For the
third time he delivered his Je suis
jeune — and not a muscle moved. At
a still more advanced age the same
performer acted the part of Misael,
the youngest of the Maccabees, a
lad of thirteen, in a boy's cap and
jacket.

LANGUAGE OF PARADISE.

Andreas Kempe asserts, in a work
on the languages of Paradise, that it
is an indisputable fact, that God spoke
to our first parents in Swedish, that
Adam answered in Danish, and the
Devil seduced Eve in French.

Another scholar, Gottfried Henze-
lius, in a work entitled Synopsis
universce Philologies, communicates
Adam's, Enoch's, and Noah's alpha-
bet, and even some particulars con-
cerning the language of the angels:
and yet this work was published so
lately as the year 1741.

MOLIKRE's GRAVE.

The Archbishop of Paris obstinate-
ly opposed the interment of the cele-
brated dramatist, Moliere, in conse-
crated ground. He carried his zeal
to such a length as even to resist Louis
XIV. when the king endeavoured to
soften him into compliance. " To
what depth," said the king at last,
" does your consecrated ground ex-
tend?"— The archbishop, taken by
surprise, replied, " Eight feet, sire."
— " Well then," rejoined Louis, "let
Moliere's grave be dug twelve feet
deep."

ACUTENESS OF THE APPENZELLEES.

" How many hours' ride is it from
hence to such a town?" said a horse-
man to an Appenzeller. — " Go on, go
on," was the answer. — " I sa^v, friend,

how many hours' ride is it?" — " Go
on," cried the man. The offended
traveller trotted briskly forward; when
he had proceeded about thirty yards,
the Appenzeller called after him:
" Now that I have seen your horse's
pace, sir, I can tell: you have two
hours and a half to ride to the place
you mention."

THE PROFESSOR AND THE TURNPIKE-
GATE.

Professor Bodmer was once tra-
velling with a friend on horseback
through Appenzell; they came to
a turnpike. " Open the gate, my lad,"
cried the gentleman to a boy who
stood by. — " I must first know who
ye are," said the boy. — " I am Mr.
So and so, and this is a professor."
— " What is a professor?" — " A pro-
fessor is a man that can do every
thing." — " Then you don't want me :
a man who can do every thing can
open the turnpike-gate."

CARDINAL CAMPEIUS.

Cardinal Campeius was once dis-
puting with a Duke of Modena, who
being angry, meanly reminded the
cardinal that his father was a swine-
herd. " It is true," said Campeius ;
" but had it been so with the father
of your highness, you would have
been a swineherd too."

CONVINCING ARGUMENT.

In the year 1754, it was judged
necessary to build a bridge over the
Rhine at Schaff hausen, and conse-
quently many persons offered plans
and models to the committee of ar-
chitects who were appointed to ex-
amine them. Among others came a
common carpenter, Ulric Gruben-
mann. When he first presented his
model, the committee shrugged their

MUSICAL REVIEW'.

shoulders contemptuously, and asked
him how he could imagine that such
a thing as that could bear the impo-
sition of any material weight without
being crushed. The carpenter made
no answer, but by putting his little
model on the floor, and standing on it

with the whole weight of his body,
which, though he was an athletic and
tall person, this miniature bridge
supported, without yielding a hair's
breadth under the comparatively im-
mense burden.

MUSICAL REVIEW.

" And ye shall walk in silk attire,"
Air by a Lady, with an Introduc-
tion and Variations for the Piano-
forte, composed for Miss Carolina
Harman of Theobalds, by G. Ki-
allmark. Pr. 3s. — (Goulding and
Co.)

In the introductory andante, which
in every other respect calls for our
approbation, both with regard to me-
lodic invention and harmonic arrange-
ment, we perceive two very awkward
successive fifths in the extreme parts
of the very first bar; viz. D, F :&, A
and G, B, D. The theme selected
for the variations does credit to the
fair composer ; its melody runs smooth-
ly and expressively ; and the accom-
paniment, whether of the lady's or
Mr. K.'s devising, is both apt and
select. There are four variations,
written in proper style. The fourth
is perhaps the least attractive. No.
2. exhibits the subject in an interest-
ing way, under continued staccato
quavers; and No. 3. distinguishes it-
self by good harmonic arrangement,
and a natural connection between the
successive constituent parts.
No. II. The admired Air of II. R.
Bishop, " Tell me, my heart," ar-
ranged as a Duet for two Per-
formers on the Piano-forte, with
an Accompaniment for the Harp
(ad lib.), and dedicated to his
■ Grace the Duke of Leinster, by

D. Bruguier. Pr. 4s. — (Goulding
and Co.)
No. III. H. R. Bishop's celebrated
Glee, " Hark ! Apollo strikes the
lyre" arranged (as above), and
humbly dedicated to his most gra-
cious Majesty the King, by the
same. Pr. 4s. — (Goulding and
Co.)

Although it is from inspection only
that we judge of the full effect of
these adaptations, we feel quite jus-
tified in submitting them to the no-
tice of our readers as well deserving
their attention. As mere duets,
without the harp, they will be found
replete with melodic attraction, full
in harmony, and easy of execution;
and where the harp can be mustered
into additional aid, the support from
that instrument must prove highly ef-
fective, as the part is strongly pro-
vided for, without, however, entail-
ing peculiar difficulties on the per-
former.

" Cest V amour" arranged as a Ron-
do for the Piano-forte, and re-
spectfully inscribed to his Pupil,
Miss Maria Liddiard, by W. H.
Cutler. Op. 39. Pr. 2s.— (de-
menti and Co.)

The introduction has some good
points, and is altogether in proper
style and effective: in the first crotch-
et of the 17th bar, the A's in the
extreme parts fall into an objection^
Z z 2

346

MUSICAL RKVIKW.

able octave, which might easily be
avoided by substituting C, E b , F
for C, A (for the first crotchet only).
The rondo is pretty enough, and as
easy of execution as it is simple in
point of construction and invention.
Its principal portion is devoted to
repeated exhibitions of the subject
in the tonic and subdominant, the di-
gressive matter being comparatively
limited, and not particularly distin-
guished by freedom of imaginative
flights. The episodical ideas are
confined in point of melody and har-
mony, and, we might add, in respect
of measure likewise, for the rhythmi-
cal beat of the subject is seldom de-
parted from. With a theme so en-
gaging and favourable, a rondo of a
higher stamp might have been ex-
pected, and we are sure Mr. C. could
have satisfied these expectations.
" Love and Friendship" a Parody
written by C. dementi, and in-
scribed to Miss Antonetta Cra-
mer; the Music composed, with
an Accompaniment for the Piano-
forte, by W. H. Cutler. Pr. 2s.
— (Clementi and Co.)
Love and Friendship take a ram-
ble, the latter shewing the way; Love
plays all sorts of pranks on the road,
until, fairly tired, he takes a rest,
oversleeps himself, and is deserted
by Friendship. The moral announc-
ed in the introduction is not abso-
lutely palpable: if we have rightly
seized it, it would seem to be a little
caustic. But the text is not so much
our department as the music, which,
in the present case, is very simple,
yet sufficiently agreeable to serve as
a fair vehicle for the words. The
melody turns merely upon the tonic
and dominant alternately, and is re-
peated through several successive
stanzas, until towards the conclusion

there is a little minorizing and a slight
tinge of variation. Pleasant enough
as the composition is, we candidly
confess, the poem appears to us of a
nature to have invited higher and
more pointed musical colouring.
" In Bally crag town" a Song; and
" the Extinguisher" a Glee, writ-
ten by C. Clementi; the Music by
W. H. Cutler, Mus. Bac. Oxon.
Pr. Is. 6d.— (Clementi and Co.)
Two humorous effusions ; too hu-
morous by half many of our steady
readers would say if they read the
text. Mr. C. Clementi no doubt is a
bachelor — (not of music, like his com-
poser).— Were it otherwise, he would
not dare to sing:

"Alas! for my poor Anna! I cannot relin-
quish her;

For the fire of love is consuming my frame.

Resort then to Hymen, for he's an extin-
guisher,

Which soon will diminish and deaden your
flame."

Shocking! and then we have a
song quite as bad, and a little too
free by the way, about an Irishman's
ghost refusing to enter the gates of
heaven, because he hears the voice
of his better half within.

Now we feel a little at home as to
the moral of Mr. C.'s " Love and
Friendship;" all of a kidney! and we
must take leave to say, that such
misogynic and antisocial sentiments
ought not to be printed, much less
set to music. We don't know now
whether even our notice will be ad-
mitted to press; and, if it obtain the
imprimatur, whether we may not be
taken to task by some of our fair
readers.

Mr. Cutler's music to the Irish-
man's lament is simple but in cha-
racter. The glee for " the Extin-
guisher," short as it is, will be found
pleasing and well contrived. But to

MUSICAL REVIEW.

347

have set such a sad text for three
voices is an aggravation of the of-
fence: our consolation rests in the
hope, that the two bachelors will find
it difficult to muster three male sing-
ers— females are out of the question
— to vocalize their joint labour. They
may make a duet of it between them-
selves; in a back room we would re-
commend !

No. I. The Infant Vocalist, Selec-
tions from the Nursery Rhymes,
<yc. with original Airs for the Pi-
ano-forte or Harp, by Eliz. Est.
Hamond. Pr. 3s.— (Mitchell, New
Bond-street.)

A production of a similar nature
by the same fair author has on a for-
mer occasion been favourably com-
mented upon in our review ; and "The
Infant Vocalist," now before us,
presents features of attraction which
are creditable to its author. The
melodies devised for these nursery
lyrics, although by no means original
and striking, are fair and pleasing
enough in their way. The object
and advantage of setting to music
baby poetry of this description is
perhaps questionable; at all events,
the task, if to be undertaken, ap-
pears to us to be more difficult than
might be imagined at first sight. The
melodies ought to combine a certain
degree of captivating originality with
extreme simplicity. They should be
of the most intelligible materials, so
as to be easily seized and retained.
The air should be of short extent,
and its component periods should
present the greatest possible rhyth-
mical regularity and symmetry; while
the notes ought to be confined to a
very limited range of scale, neither
descend too low, nor go higher than
the natural compass of a child's voice.
These desiderata, we are free to say,

are but partially satisfied in the pre-
sent publication.

" Return unto thy rest" a sacred
Song; the Music composed by
Samuel Poole. Pr.ls. — (Hodsoll.)
Although this song presents no
striking feature of originality, it is
entitled to our approbation in more
than one respect. The melody is
feeling, smooth, and well connected,
the rhythmical construction possesses
due regularity and symmetry, and
the accompaniment is very satisfac-
tory.

" Regna il Terror" composed by
Rossini, arranged and varied for
the Piano-forte by Samuel Poole.
Pr. Is.— (Hodsoll.)
A chorus from Tancredi, in a very
plain guise; thin, almost a skeleton
of the full-bodied score ; easy enough,
to be sure, to be played by any bo-
dy, and even in its bare anatomy not
without attraction.
Overture for the Piano-forte, com-
posed by S. F. Rimbault. Op. 21.
Pr. 2s.— (Hodsoll and Co.)
A very proper lesson for pupils;
easy, regular, and pleasing upon the
whole. Beyond this mark, however,
we can scarcely extend our recom-
mendation. The ideas are by no
means of a novel cast ; all is plain
sailing in melody as well as harmony;
nothing in the shape of contrapun-
tal interlacement, no combinations
beyond those of a common order.
The best portion, in our opinion, is
contained in the fourth page, where
the minore portion, and the part in
the relative major key, are calculated
to excite more particular attention.
Rossini s much-admired Overture to
the Opera of " Native Land," as
performed at the Theatre Royal
Covent- Garden, arranged for the
Piano-forte by S. F. Rimbault.

348

MUSKUL IlKVIKW.

Pr. 2s. 6d.— (Hodsoll, High-Hol-
born.)

Nothing else but the overture to
Rossini's " Matilde e Corradino,"
played as an introduction to " My
Native Land," at Covent- Garden,
which, for its music altogether, is
chiefly indebted to loans from Ros-
sini's works, a kind of second edition
of " Tancredi," &c. As long as our
musical dramas are selected, clubbed,
and patched together in this way, a
discreet silence on the subject of Bri-
tish " musicals" will be most advis-
able. As well might drones boast
of the honey to which they help
themselves from the stores of the
industrious bee.

Rossini s Overture and Introduzione
to the Opera of " Zelmira," per-
formed at the Kings Theatre, ar-
ranged for the Piano-forte, with
Accompaniments for a Flute, Vio-
lin, and Violoncello (ad lib.) by
S. F. Rimbault. Pr. 3s.; without
Accompaniments, 2s. — (Hodsoll.)
Rossini's celebrated Overture to " II
Bar bier e di Siviglia," newly
udaptedfor the Piano-forte, with
Accompaniments (as above), ad
lib. by the same. Pr. 4s. ; with-
out Accompaniments, 2s. 6d. —
(Hodsoll.)
Beethoven's celebrated Grand Sym-
phony, performed at the Concerts
of the Philharmonic Society, ar-
ranged for the Piano-forte, with
Accompaniments (as above), ad
lib. by the same. Pr. (is. ; with-
out Accompaniments, 4s. — (Hod-
soll.)

We have examined these adapta-
tions with much satisfaction, and not
without astonishment at the unwea-
ried and indeed unexampled dili-
gence and industry of Mr. Rim-
bault's pen, which, what with minor

productions and more important un-
dertakings, furnishes us almost con-
stant matter for our critical notices.
The above three arrangements are
of the latter description, and they
certainly do not afford intrinsic evi-
dence of the celerity with which
Mr. R. accomplishes his manifold
labours. He seems to be gifted with
an intuitive tact to pick out a score
and embody its essentials into a more
limited compass. The overture to
" Zelmira" is deserving of the pecu-
liar attention of the amateur, as af-
fording a further specimen of the
more earnest and contrapuntal vein
of Rossini in his dramatic introduc-
tions. That of the " Barbiere" is
well known for its vivacity and ele-
gance. Beethoven's Symphony is
that in C major, known to and idol-
ized by all the real lovers of the high-
er efforts of the art; a grand, a gi-
gantic performance, which will out-
live us and our sons.
First Rudiments to the Art of Play-
ing on the Piano-forte, with the
principal Rules for Fingering,
clearly explained in a Series of
Instructions and Examples; to
which are added Progressive Les-
sons, Sfc. Sfc. a Prelude to each
Key; composed and selected by
S.F. Rimbault. Op. 20. Pr.6s.
—(Hodsoll.)

We remember the time when Mr.
Hook's " Guida di Musica" was a
sort of sine qua non in musical in-
struction : whereas at present we could
probably name twenty similar works
of that description. Every publish-
er, almost, has one of his own, and
the difference lies chiefly in the bulk
and price, and the selection of les-
sons for practice. Mr. Rimbault's
book is one of the least expensive,
considering its volume, and contains

EXHIBITION OF THE ItOYAL ACADEMY.

SA%

all that is essential in the tuition of
a beginner. The didactic matter is
explained with perspicuity and ar-
ranged with method. The instruc-
tions with regard to fingering, in par-
ticular, call for our approbation, brief
as they are. The lessons are suffi-
ciently numerous, interesting in point
of melody, and modern as to date,
down even to the works of Rossini.
A Selection of poptiltvf Waltzes for

the Piano-forte, Harp, or Violin.
Book IV. Pr. 2s.— (Hodsoll.)
Most of the seven or eight waltzes
in this collection are valuable in their
way, and all are not only well calculat-
ed for the ball-room, but very suitable
for musical practice; the tunes being
pleasing and sprightly, and the ac-
companiments of the left hand quite
easy, although sufficiently appropri-
ate and satisfactory.

FINE ARTS.

THE EXHIBITION OF T

Tin: fifty-sixth annual Exhibition
of the Royal Academy is now open
at Somerset-House. The numerous
Exhibitions which have of late been
formed by various bodies of our art-
ists, have, as might be expected, di-
minished in some degree that influx
of pictures which heretofore found a
depository and a mart in the Royal
Academy; a diminution which we
think will prove alike advantageous
to the annual Exhibitions, which were
often so crowded with works as to
disarrange that order and classifica-
tion which ought, to a certain degree
at least, to prevail in Somerset-
House ; and to the artists themselves,
many of whose pictures were over-
looked, from the positions which they
almost of necessity occupied.

The present Exhibition is, from
the reason we have stated, less nu-
merously filled than preceding Exhi-
bitions (there being one thousand and
thirty-seven works), and so far more
select, and will we trust be found
equally attractive. Many of our stu-
dents, who " toil after fame, and take
the paths of art," have gone to adorn
the walls of other establishments,

HE ROYAL ACADEMY.

and their places at Somerset-House
are supplied with festoons of drape-
ry, which surmount the pictures in
the principal rooms.

The principal royal academicians
and associates, if we except Mr.
Turner and one or two others, have
contributed to this Exhibition. Por-
traiture as usual abounds, but not so
much to the exclusion of the other
more generally interesting depart-
ments of art as we have sometimes
seen. The whole arrangement is
good. The portraits being by our
principal academicians, we shall be-
gin with a cursory view of the merits
of those which cannot fail to attract
the attention of the visitor upon en-
tering the Exhibition. The Presi-
dent of the Royal Academy has se-
veral admirable portraits: among them
are,

Her Royal Highness the Duchess of
Gloucester — Mrs. Halford —
Earl Fitzwilliam — Lord Stowell
— Sir W. Curtis — A Group of
two Children of C. B. Calmady,
Esq. §c. Sfc. — Sir Thomas Law-
rence, P. R. A.
There is a spell in this artist's pen-

550

EXHIBITION OF THK ROYAL ■ ACADEMY,

cil, and a charm in his colouring,
which bear the illusion of art to the
highest perfection of which it is sus-
ceptible. In these portraits (he has
eight in the Exhibition), we have a
perfect delineation of character form-
ed upon nature's mould. The por-
trait of the illustrious lady at the
head of the list is a production cal- j
culated to do honour to any school
of art. The expression is mild and
dignified, the attitude noble and un-
affected, the drapery full of corre-
sponding grandeur, and the colour-
ing bright and harmonious ; there is
too a pleasing softness in the execu-
tion, which cannot be too highly
praised. The whole-length of Earl
Fitzwilliam is also finely executed,
and a capital likeness of the venera-
ble peer. The portraits of Lord
Stowell and Sir Wra. Curtis are in
the same style of splendid execution;
there is a richness in the tone of co-
louring which deserves the warmest
admiration. The portrait of Mrs.
Halford deserves the same commen-
dation ; and the Group of Children
is a composition so sweet and playful,
that it arouses and cheers all our na-
tural affections: the expression is
exquisitely tender. The Duke of
Devonshire's portrait is also finely
executed.

Mr. Ward has several pictures in
his best style: his animal paintings
are unique; they have a fire and spi-
rit only equalled by the anatomical
skill displayed in their drawing. Mr.
Ward's is not the cold imitation of
nature ; it is nature in action, under
the influence of vigorous expression,
developing the energies of peculiar
faculties, with all the distinguishing
flexibility of muscular life. Examine
his pictures of horses in this Exhi-

bition, in his private gallery, and in
his beautiful lithographic copies. — |
We cannot omit particular notice, in
the present Exhibition, of the
Portrait of Colonel Sir John Fle-
ming Leicester, Bart, exercising
Jus Regiment of Cheshire Yeo-
manry Cavalry on the Sands at
Liverpool. — James Ward, R.A.
As lovers and promoters of the
fine arts, we were gratified to see so
well executed and characteristic a
portrait -group of the most steady
and patriotic promoter of British
art decorating the walls of our na-
tional academy. Mr. Ward has been
eminently successful in the composi-
tion and execution of this fine work.
Artists owe much to Sir John Lei-
cester, and we have no doubt that
the gallant and patriotic baronet will
feel himself amply repaid by being
the possessor of such works as this.
Sir John is represented in the uniform
of his corps (a very tasteful one),
mounted on a grey charger ; his aide-
de-camp, in a lancer's uniform, with
his standard, &c. is near him; and
the back-ground is occupied with a
view of the corps skirmishing. There
is a good deal of depth and gran-
deur in the composition of this ca-
binet picture, and the individual ex-
pression of the principal figures is
admirably portrayed. The likeness
of Sir John is excellent, and the at-
titude appropriate. He is in the act
of giving orders to his aide-de-camp,
and directing the evolutions with
energy and animation. — Some of Mr.
Ward's race-horses are admirably
painted in this Exhibition ; and judg-
ing from the Portrait of Copenha-
gen, the horse rode by the Duke of
Wellington for fifteen hours at the
battle of Waterloo, age does not ap-

EXHIBITION OP THE UOYAL ACADEMY.

351

pear to have broken the spirit or im-
paired the symmetry of that cele-
brated animal.

Sir G. Cockburn — Portrait of a
Lady — Portrait of T. Lowndes,
Esq. — Sir Wm. Beachey, R.A.
Sir William has been very happy
in his portraits this year; the like-
nesses are correct, and the colouring
is very beautiful. The portrait of the
lady is finished with great care, and
the expression remarkable for sweet-
ness : that of Sir George Cockburn
is full of spirited expression, and
equally well painted.
Sir Benjamin Hobhouse — General
Phipps — Portrait of the Rev. W.
Rawcs, A. M. — Portrait of Lady
Caroline Macdonald. — J. Jack-
son, R.A.

Mr. Jackson has six portraits in
this Exhibition, which are very well
painted. Those of Sir Benjamin
Hobhouse and General Phipps are
full of characteristic expression, and
the colouring is deep and harmonious ;
the drawing of the heads is particu-
larly fine. The female portraits, par-
ticularly Lady Caroline Macdonald's,
are full of vivacity and brilliant
touches of colouring.
Portrait of a young Lady in the
Florentine Costume of 1500 —
Portrait of Thomas Rowcroft,
Esq. his Majesty's Consul Gene-
ral for Peru. — Henry Howard,
R.A.

The eminent secretary to the Roy-
al Academy exhibits this year six
portraits and a landscape study; and
if any thing could atone for the ab-
sence of those poetical pictures with
which he usually delights the eye in
Somerset-House, it would be the ex-
ecution of the female portrait in the
Florentine costume. This picture
Vol. 111. No. XV III.

rivals the colouring of Titian : it has
the same richness and mellowness of
tone, the same breathing expression
of nature; there is a softness and
delicacy of execution ; and although
the attitude is in some degree con-
strained to suit the fashion and cos-
tume of the time, yet the sweetness
of the features, the fine and grace-
ful flowing of the dark curls which
fall in ringlets from the head, and re-
lieve and set off the blooming ex-
pression of the face, preserve the
original character, and make this
portrait a gem of art. Mr. Row-
croft's portrait is a good likeness.

Mr. Shee has eight portraits this
year: the following is his best:
Portrait of Sir Anthony Carlisle,
F. R. S. Professor of Anatomy to
the Royal Academy. — M. A.
Shee, R.A.

This portrait is a capital likeness
of the distinguished professor, and
full of deep and contemplative ex-
pression; the colouring is well exe-
cuted, and the accessorial parts of
the picture finished with great care.
Mr. Shee is equally successful in his
other works.

Portrait of her Grace the Duchess
of Northumberland — Lord Ache-
son, in the Dress worn by the
Pages attendant upon his Majesty
at the Coronation. — Thomas Phil-
lips, R.A.

This artist has five portraits in the
Exhibition, of which the two we
have named are the principal. The
portrait of her Grace the Duchess
of Northumberland is remarkable
for a sweetness of expression and a
deep and rich tone of colouring:
that of the page is a beautiful com-
position, conveying all the ingenu-
ousness of youth with that ease of
3 A

EXHIBITION OF THE HOYAL ACADEMY.

attitude and unconstrained air which
are its general attributes. The dra-
pery is flowing and grand, and the
colouring of corresponding beauty.
Portrait of the Lord Bishop of Dur-
ham.— W. Owen, R. A.
Another excellent portrait by an
academician of deserved merit. The
handling is firm, the expression vene-
rable and appropriate, and the co-
louring-judicious.

There are several other good por-
traits by Mr. Northcote, R. A. Mr.
Pickersgill, A. Mr. Hayter, Mr.
Thompson, Mrs. Pearson, Mr. Rein-
agle, R. A. Mr. Lonsdale, Mr. Fos-
ter, and several other artists whose
names we have not room to mention,
but whose works will attest their
merit at the Exhibition.

In landscape-painting, relieved and
enlivened by the introduction of fa-
miliar grouping, Mr. Collins main-
tains his usual eminence.
Stirling Castle — The Cherry -Sel-
ler, a Scene at Turvey, Bedford-
shire.— W. Collins, R. A.
These are both very beautiful land-
scapes, as well as the two other pic-
tures by the same artist, the portraits
and Devonshire viewr. In the Bed-
fordshire scene there is some rich
and exquisite colouring, breathing
all the fragrance of nature's hues;
and in the Stirling Castle, like the
Walmer Castle in the last Exhibi-
tion, there is a transparent flickering
of shadows across the surface, which
is in the highest degree beautiful :
the atmospheric appearances beneath
the castle are also well depicted.
Venus with Cupid, attended by the

Graces. — T. Stothard, R. A.
. The composition is very poetical,
and parts of the colouring rich and
glowing; but in some places, the fi-
gures in particular, there is a want of

that transparency with which How-
ard delights us — a waxen hue, which
Mr. Stothard with more care pos-
sesses the ability to obviate.
Edward III. Queen Isabella., and
the Earl of March. — H. P. Briggs.

The story of this picture is shortly this :
" Edward having gained the governor, en-
tered the castle of Nottingham through a
subterraneous passage, and came to his mo-
ther's apartment, accompanied by Monta-
cute and some other officers. There was at
first some noise, and two knights of the
queen's guard were killed. The Earl uf
March was apprehended, carried out and con-
ducted to the Tower of London, notwith-
standing the queen's cries and entreaties to
her son to have pity on the ' gentil Morti-
mer.' "

The composition of this historical
work bears a striking resemfelance to
that of Opie's Murder of David
Rizzio, now in the Common Council
Chamber of the city of London.
The attitude of Queen Isabella, even
the expression of the features, is that
of the Scottish queen, and they dif-
fer only in complexion. The other
figures are not dissimilar from those
in Mr. Briggs' picture of Colonel
Blood . There is a good deal of skill
displayed in the execution of this
work; it has a breadth, an energy
and vigour, which denote a high ca-
pacity for historical painting: the co-
louring is in some parts hard, but
the drapery is very well managed.

Abberille, a Juggler exhibiting hi*
Tricks. — G. Jones, R. A. elect.
The architectural parts of the pic-
ture are well drawn, and the bustle
and diversified character of the group-
ing playful and good ; but there is a
mistiness in parts of the colouring
which diminishes the effect of which
the view is susceptible.
The Triumph of Rubens, a Sketch:
the idea taken from Northcote s

KXIIIBITiON OF Tllfi 110YAL ACADEMY.

553

" Bream of a Painter. — F. P. Ste-
phanoff.

An exquisite specimen of colour-
ing, sparkling in every part, and full
of glowing action.

Love taught by the Graces. — W.
Hilton, R. A.

" By whose clear voice sweet music was

found,
Before Amphion ever knew a sound."

Drayton.

Mr. Hilton sustains the high re-
putation of his classic pencil by this
work: the group is delightful; there
is a poetical inspiration in the compo-
sition which stamps the hand of a
master. The colouring is not so rich
as in some of his previous works:
still it is free from hardness or mono-
tony. The figures are finely buoy-
ant, and the Graces as they should
be, from the simple and elegant sym-
metry which they display to so much
advantage.
Sdncho Panxa in the Apartment of

the Duchess.— C. R. Leslie, A.

•.-!''
The passage in the third vol. of Don 2wi.r-

flfe chosen for the display o( his comic powers
is the following, which it is necessary to read
to comprehend the details he has as it wc^
personified : " First and foremost, I must
tell you I look on my master, Don Quixote,
to be no better than a downright madman,
though sometimes he will stumble on a par-
cel of sayings so quaint and so tightly put
together, that the devil himself could not
mend them; but in the main, I cannot beat
it out of my noddle that he is as mad as
a March hare. Now, because I am pretty con-
fident of knowing his blind side, whatever
crotchets come into my crown, though with-
out either head or tail, yet can I make them
pass on him for gospel. Such was the answer
to his letter and another sham that I put up-
on him the other day, and is not in print yet,
touching my Lady Dnlcinea's enchantment;
for you must know, between you and I, she
is no more enchanted than the man in the
moon."

This is the best delineation of the
exquisite characters composed by
Cervantes which we have yet seen.

The duenna is a perfect model; the
duchess a rich specimen of charac-
ter; and the contrasted humour and
gravity of the several attendants not
exceeded by the individual composi-
tion of any of Hogarth's grouping.
The executive part of the work is
also good; the lights are introduced
and managed with a great deal of
judgment, and so as to eet off to great
advantage the chief figures.

Mr. Wilkie contributes this year
two small pictures : they are,

Smugglers offering run Goods for
Sale or Concealment — Cottage
Toilette, from Allan Ramsay's
" Gentle Shepherd."—!). Wilkie,
R. A.

'! While Peggy laces up her bosom fair,
With a blue snood Jenny binds up her hair;
Glaud, by his morning ingle, takes a beek,
The rising sun shines motty through the

reek ;
A pipe his mouth, the lasses please his e'en,
And now and then his joke maun interv'een."
Act v, Scene 2.

Were we to consider the skill
only which this artist displays in the
execution of his pictures, we should
have an endless theme for admira-
tion: his colouring, the singular ma-
nagement of his lights, the peculiar
tints which he can fling at will upon
any part of a picture, and not one of
them without producing a beautiful
effect, display a power of capacity
which no painter either ancient or mo-
dern has ever exceeded . But when to
this executive merit is added an
equal command, as if by intuition, in
the great art of personification of
character, in " catching the living
manners as they rise," and portray-
ing with such admirable spirit and
fidelity all the scenes of familiar life,
we are indeed struck with the extra-
ordinary powers of Mr. Wilkie. The
picture of the Smugglers represents
3 A 2

35A

INHIBITION OF THE KOYAL ACADEMY.

the arrival of two of these freeboot-
ers at a cottage, to the surprise and
dismay of a cottager, his wife, and
child, who, either ignorant of or sus-
pecting the character of their intrud-
ers, and not ignorant of the danger
of communing with such visitors,
appear astounded by their arrival,
whilst their dog displays a determina-
tion to maintain the sanctuary of the
dwelling. The expression in all the
figures is excellently distinctive. The
Cottage Toilette, from Allan Ram-
say's poem, is also remarkable for
the air of expression and tone of
colouring in the picture. Peggy is
full of vivacity. The demand upon
Mr. Wilkie's pencil for the gratifi-
cation of the public curiosity is so
great, that the following reason is
assigned by one of our cotempo-
raries for the paucity of this artist's
contributions to the present Exhibi-
tion. We give the reason, chiefly be-
cause it shews the munificent patron-
age which his Majesty is daily be-
stowing upon British art. The wri-
ter says, " Mr. Wilkie may be well
excused for contributing no more to
the general fund of art this season,
when it is recollected that he has
been so ardently engaged on two
elaborate works, which are in a for-
ward state of progress — one, His
Majesty George IV. receiving the
Keys of Leith in August 1822, on
Ms Entrance into Scotland — a pic-
ture of great interest, from the num-
ber of distinguished portraits which
it contains, as well as its being a
magnificent graphic record of an
event that will be long proudly re-
membered in Scotland. The space
for the sovereign is yet unoccupied.
We understand his Majesty, with
his usual consideration, desirous that
Mr. Wilkie shall have sufficient op-

portunities to make the resemblance
of his person, at his ease, intends
sitting to him as often as his studies
may require.

" The other picture, in an advanc-
ed state, is John Knox preaching
his memorable Sermon in the Ca-
thedral of St. Andrew. These works
cannot fail to augment the reputation
of this original artist, or of adding
new honours to the British school of
art."

Next to Mr. Wilkie in the deli-
neation of individual character is
Mr. Mulready, whose picture, now
engraving by permission of his Ma-
jesty, we lately noticed in our review
of the drawings in Soho-square, as
another instance of the munificence
of royal patronage.
The Widow.— W. Mulready, R. A.

" So mourned the dame of Ephesus her love."

This picture is full of character:
as the name denotes, a widow is the
subject of the story, and why ladies
in that grief-worn state should be
exposed to the mirth of artists or
of talkers, we know not, and yet so
it is, " and pity 'tis 'tis true." Here
we have the drama of a courtship
composed in its usual style: the coy-
ness of the lady, the half-shadowed
evanescence of her grief, the slyness
of the lover, who evidently wants
the lady only as the accessary to the
possession of the shop, the encou-
raged playfulness of the younger
boys, and the contrasted emotion of
the elder child and servant; all these
present a combination of attractive
points, which cannot be surveyed
without respect for the skill of the
artist who has combined them on
his canvas.
King William III. Lord Conifigsby,

and the first Karl of Portland. —

A. Cooper, R. A.

EXHIBITION OF THE IIOYAL ACADLMY.

355

Mr. Cooper has several pictures in
this Exhibition, which depict his skill
in animal-painting. The picture be-
fore us represents King William at
the moment when he was grazed by
a cannon-ball in the campaign against
King James in Ireland. The figures
are animated, and the horses, as we
have already remarked, admirably
drawn and coloured. The Battle
of Shrewsbury is also a very fine pic-
ture.

The Oriental Love-Letter. — H. W.
Pickersgill, A.

" By all those token flowers that tell
What words can never speak so well,
By love's alternate joy and woe.

Lord Byron.

This is a beautiful composition,
full of sentiment, and clear and live-
ly in the execution.
Distant View of the Mahratta Coun-
try, from the Boa Ghaut, between
Bombay and Poonah. The Fi-
gures represented are a Detach-
ment of the native Army, com-
manded by an English Officer,
who, the day the Study was made,
passed the Ghaut with part of the
Artillery taken by Sir Arthur
Wcllesley at the Battle of Assay e.
Decan : Morning. --W '. Westall, A.
Mr. Westall has several interesting
sketches of Oriental scenery; the
above is peculiarly romantic and well
painted.

Othello relating the Story of his
Life to Brabantio and Desdemo-
na. — H. Fradelle.

These things to hear

Would Desdemona seriously incline:

But still the house affairs would draw her

thence ;
Which ever as she could with haste dispatch,
She'd come again, and with a greedy car
Devour up my discourse."

Shakspeakb's Othello, Act i. Scene 3.

There is a good deal of spirit and
character in this composition ; it de-

scribes the incident with correctness:

the figures are well drawn, but the

colouring is not throughout so good

as we have seen in this artist's former

pictures.

Rochester, from the River below the

Bridge.— A. W. Callcott, R. A.

This is a very fine picture: there
is an aerial richness in the colouring,
a tone of warmth, a transparency, in
the highest degree beautiful. The
view of the town and castle is admi-
rable, and the river scene is finished
in a style which we have never seen
surpassed. The small craft which
navigate the surface, and the deep
shadows which they reflect, are de-
picted with a force and correctness
productive of the finest effect.
Amorett delivered by Britomartfrom

the Spell of Busyrane. Spenser's

Fairy Queen, b. iii. canto 11. —

H. Fuseli, R. A.

The venerable keeper still keeps
the field of art to the gratification of
his friends, and retains much of his
early energy, which he still displays
with the vigour of his peculiar fancy.
Pandora. — W. Etty.

Pandora, the heathen Eve, having heen
formed by Vulcan as a statue, and animated
by the Gods, is crowned by the Seasons with
a garland of flowers.

" To deck her brows, the fair-tressed Sea-
sons bring
A garland breathing all the sweets of spring.''
Elton's Hesiod.

This is a good poetical composi-
tion: the figures full of buoyancy;
one or two a little ungraceful in ac-
tion: the colouring in many parts
good, but not so transparent in this
picture as in former pictures which
we have seen exhibited by this art-
ist.

Landscape, with the Judgment of
Midas. — G. Arnald, A.

" When Tmolus, ravish'd with th' harmoni-
ous air,

3SB

EXHIBITION OP TUB ROYAL ACADEMY.

Bids Pan no longer his poor skill compare,
But to the lute submit his jarring reed."
Ovid Metam b. ii.

There is a fine poetical feeling in
this landscape, and the colouring is
clear and chaste.

Lord Patrick Lindesay of the
Byres, and Lord William Ruth-
Den, compelling Mary Queen of
Scots to sign her Abdication in
the Castle of Lochleven. — Histo-
ry of Scotland. — W. Allan.

"Beware, madam," said Lindesay; and
snatching hold of the queen's arm with his
own gauntletted hand, he pressed it in the
rudeness of his passion, more closely, per-
haps, than he himself was aware of ; " be-
ware how you contend with those who are the
stronger, and have the mastery of your fate."
He held his grasp on her arm, bending his
eyes on her with a stern and intimidating
look, till both Ruthven and Melville cried
" Shame!" The Abbot.

Mr. Allan has already acquired
considerable credit as an historical
painter: his figures in general pos-
sess expression, and his grouping is
remarkable for force and variety, but
both the expression and the atti-
tudes are often too coarse and abrupt
to convey that portion of grandeur
of effect which historical composition
requires. This may be the fault of
a national model, or of the artist's
impression of what must have been
the features of the angry spirits who
agitated the turbulent times, the man-
ners of which he professes to illus-
trate; but unquestionably it gives a
superficial coarseness to his works,
which in some degree diminishes the
effect that his general composition
and execution are in other respects
calculated to produce.
Portrait of Joseph Hume, Esq.
M. P.—W. Patten, jun.

This portrait is a good likeness,
and painted in a clever manner.
View of the High-street and Lawn
Market, Edinburgh, — A Nasuiyth.

A topographic picture of consider-
able merit; the old architecture of
the city well delineated, but the co-
louring in some parts dingy.

We regret that we have not a
larger space to devote this month to
the pictures in this Exhibition, the
notice of a very considerable number
of which we are compelled necessa-
rily to omit. There are many on
which we should dwell with the great-
est satisfaction, for the proficiency
which they denote, and the ripening
talents which they develope in the
school of British art.

This year's Exhibition is in all its
departments remarkable for the dis-
play of female talents in the cultiva-
tion of the fine arts, and we regret
we cannot bestow upon such meri-
torious exertions, the detailed praise
which they individually deserve.—
Amongst these productions is the
Portrait of a Lady of Title, by
Mrs. Buttlar, a German lady, nearly
allied to the family of Schlegel, so
distinguished in the annals of Ger-
man literature. This portrait is full
of expression ; the air is graceful, and
the colouring soft, agreeable, and
harmonious.

It is gratifying to find that our
students in every branch of art ap-
pear, year after year, to send forth
examples from their body, well cal-
culated to sustain in future years the
character of the Royal Academy.
There are many pictures it is true
which do not reach mediocrity: this
is an unavoidable defect, from which
no public Exhibition upon a large
scale can be exempt. It is better that
a few of such misapplied efforts
should find their way through this
channel to the public eye, than that a
too rigid scrutiny should be adopted,
or even be supposed to be adopted,

EXHIBITION OF THK .ROYAL ACADKMY.

357

in the selection for admission, which
might have the effect even in a sin-
gle instance of deterring one modest
and meritorious individual from try-
ing his powers in a profession which
he might be calculated to adorn.
. The miniatures are this year beau-
tiful, and where merit is so general,
it would be almost invidious to select.
The ladies, as heretofore, maintain
their taste and delicacy of execution
in this department of the Exhibition.

Of the enamels of the British
school, it is impassible to speak in
terms higher than their worth. Mr.
Bone, R. A. is as usual pre-eminent:
lie presents the Exhibition this year
with enamel copies from Sir Win.
Beachey's Portrait of the Duchess
of Kent and the Princess Victoria;
from Gainsborough's Lady de Dun-
stanville; from Sir Antonio More's
exquisite miniature of Mary Queen
of Scots, and from Hoppner's Coun-
tess of Dysart. They are all most
beautifully finished, and will convey
to future times the high merit of the
artist, and the beauty and celebrity
of the subjects he does so much to
perpetuate. The younger Messrs.
Bone have some clever productions
in this Exhibition.

The architectural designs in the
library are as usual excellent: we
have not room to glance at them in
the detail which they deserve. The
principal are by Mr. Soane, R. A.;
Mr. Wyatt, R. A.; Mr. Gandy, A.;
Mr. C. R. Cockerell, Mr. Wilkins,
and other artists, who are known
to devote themselves with great zeal
and success to this branch of art.

The Sculptural Department is full
of high merit; and the Model Acade-
my contains works which do honour
to our artists.

Psyche — The Pastoral Apollo.—'

J. Flaxman, R. A.
are two beautiful marble statues; the
Apollo has a noble attitude and a
fine expression.

Statue of the late Countess of Liver-
pool — Statue of the late Dr.
Cyril Jackson, Dean of Christ
Church, to be placed in the Cathe-
dral: a Monument erected by
subscription among the Members
of the College, over which he pre-
sided for twenty-six years. — F.
Chan trey, R. A.

Mr. Chantrey has displayed his
best taste and skill in the sculpture
of these works. The softness and
delicacy of the first statue, the re-
clined attitude, the mournful senti-
ment which it conveys in domestic
life, are expressed in a manner too
strong to be mistaken. Dr. Jack-
son's monument is a dignified com-
position; the venerable expression
of the features, the ease of the atti-
tude, the broad and flowing drape-
ry with which the figure is invested,
convey a high idea of the artist's
powers. Of Mr. Chantrey's busts
in this Exhibition it is impossible
to be too commendatory. The Bust
of the Duke of Wellington, like Sir
Thomas Lawrence's small portrait
in a former Exhibition, conveys, and
we know not where else to look for
it in the numerous busts and por-
traits of the warrior, that peculiar
expression about the brow and mouth
which the Duke of Wellington de-
velopes when his attention is aroused,
to any subject. This action of fea-
tures so well known to those who
have had the opportunity of seeing
the duke on such occasions, we do not
remember to have seen so happily
caught by any other artist, and on-

358

THE ANCEUSTRIN COLLECTION.

ly in the two instances to which we
have alluded.

Mr. C. Rossi, R. A. has a good
bas-relief for the front of a pedestal
to the monument ordered to be erect-
ed by government in St. Paul's to
the memory of Lord Heathfield.

Mr. Westmacott, R. A. has a good
statue of a Nymph. Mr. Behnes
has two admirable Busts of Lord
Stowell and Mr. Lambton; and a
lovely statue of the infant Son of

Thomas Hope, Esq. Mr. Baily, R. A.
has an excellent Bust of Mr. Fuseli.
Mr. Garrard, R. A. Mr. Scoular,
Mr. Joseph, Mr. Heffernan, Mr. F.
W. Smith, Mr. Kendrick, and other
artists of merit, have also capital
busts in this department of the Ex-
hibition.

On the whole, we are happy to
congratulate the Royal Academy
upon an Exhibition so creditable to
the fine arts of our country.

THE ANGERSTEIN COLLECTION.

This choice and exquisitely select-
ed collection of valuable pictures has
become by purchase the property of
the public ; and this may be said to be
the first step towards the formation
of a National Gallery, or indeed to
the extension upon a suitable scale
of public patronage to the fine arts.
The Royal Academy, though found-
ed by our late revered monarch, and
endowed with corporate honours,
was nevertheless entirely dependent
upon the artists themselves for sup-
port: from the public, in a national
sense, the Royal Academy received
only the use of a suite of apartments
in Somerset-House. To his present
Majesty the artists are indebted for
the munificent purchase of the An-
gerstein collection, which is, we re-
peat, an auspicious commencement
of " a National Gallery ;" and there
could not be a finer beginning for
such a patriotic object, than the pur-
chase of this admirable collection of
pictures.

As soon as it was ascertained that
the executors of the late Mr. Anger-
stein were ready to treat with a pur-
chaser for the collection, his Majes-
ty's government entered into a nego-
ciation with them for that purpose ;

and on the 23d of last March, the
Earl of Liverpool notified to the
Treasury, that he had concluded an
agreement for the purchase of the
whole gallery for the sum of 57,000/.
and his lordship delivered to the
Board the following catalogue of the
pictures, which had by this contract
become the property of the public.

List of the Pictures of the late J.
J. Anof.iistein, Esq. in Pall-Mali.

1 . The Embarkation of the Queen of

Sheba. — Claude.

2. The Marriage of Rebecca.— Claude.

3. Ganymede. — Titian.

4. The Rape of the Sabines. — Rubens.

5. The Emperor Theodosius expelled

the Church by St. Ambrose. —
Vandyke.

6. St. John in the Wilderness — A.

Carracci.

7. Susannah and the Elders. — -Lud.

Carracci.

8. A Bacchanalian Triumph. — N.

Poussin.

9. Erminia with the Shepherds. —

Doininichino.

10. Philip the Fourth of Spain and his

Queen. — Velasquez.

11. Venus and Adonis. — Titian.

12. Landscape — " Morning." — Claude.

13. An Italian Seaport — " Evening."

— Claude.

THE ANGliUSTEIN COLLECTION.

1 i. The Raising of Lazarus. — Seb. del
Piombo.

15. A Concert. — Titian.

16. Pope Julius the Second. — Raphael.
Christ on the Mount. — Correggio.
Portrait of Govartius. — Vandyke.
The Nativity. — Rembrandt.
The Woman taken in Adultery. —

Rembrandt,

The Embarkation of St. Ursula. —
Claude.

Abraham and Isaac. — G. Poussin.

A Land Storm. — G. Poussin.

A Landscape, with Cattle and Fi-
gures.— Cuyp.

Apollo and Silenus. — A. Carracci.

Holy Family in a Landscape. —
Rubens.

The Portrait of Rubens. — Vandyke.

Studies of Heads. — Correggio.

17.

18.
19.
20.

21.

22.
23.
24.

25.

26.

27.
28.
29.
SO.
31.
32.
33.
34.
35.
36.

-The Marriage a-la-Mode.
garth.

Ho-

Portrait of Lord Heathfield. — Sir
J. Reynolds.

3 7. The Village Holiday.— Wilkie.

38. Portrait of the Painter. — Hogarth.
The ulterior arrangements respect-
ing the permanent disposal of this
collection are not yet concluded, but
attendants are appointed for its se-
curity, and all the proper steps are
in progress for making this purchase
gratifying to the public and useful to
artists. A repository for the great
examples of art has long been de-
sired by those who feel how indispen-
sable the improvement of the public
taste is with the station of this coun-
try and the growth of her commer-
cial prosperity. Such a repository
was wanted, notwithstanding the lau-
dable but occasional efforts of pub-
lic institutions to supply the mate-
rials upon which genius is to work,

Vol, III. No. XVIII.

and without which the strongest in-
tellect might be fruitlessly or devi-
ously employed. By studying these
authentic models, it has been truly
said, that that idea of excellence
which is the result of the accumulat-
ed experience of past ages may be
at once acquired, and the tardy and
obstructed progress of our predeces-
sors may teach us a shorter and ea-
sier way.

The Angerstein collection was
reckoned for its extent the most va-
luable private collection in the king-
dom. Several of the pictures are in
the finest style of execution of the
respective masters who were at the
head of their several departments of
art. The Rembrandts are very va-
luable; the Claudes, Titians, and
Corregios, in the best preservation;
the Poussins and Carracci classical
and rich. Raphael's portrait of Pope
Julius II. is a noble and dignified
figure. Rubens's Rape of the Sa~
bines is a finely coloured and well-
composed work. Sir Joshua- Rey-
nolds mentions it in his tour to Flan-
ders. It was then the property of
Madame Boschaerts, at Antwerp,
and to be sold for 22,000 guilders
(2200/.)

But the chief point of attraction
in this collection, and that which is
now so deservedly cherished by the
British school, is furnished by Ho-
garth's celebrated series of six pic-
tures, called Marriage a-la-Mode,
from which engravings have been
so often made. These admirable
pictures have been often the theme
of criticism. Walpole, in viewing
them soon after they were painted,
truly said, that, if catching the man-
ners and follies of an age living as
they rise, if general satire on vices,
u i>

560

EXHIBITION OP PAINTERS IN WATER COLOURS.

familiarized by strokes of nature and
heightened by wit, and the whole
animated by proper and just expres-
sions of the passions, be comedy,
Hogarth composed comedy as much
as Moliere : in his Marriage a-la-
Mode there is even an intrigue car-
ried on throughout the piece. These
pictures furnish rich examples of co-
mic character, and possess the most
valuable qualities of art: they have
been well described to be as moral
in design, as they are masterly in ex-
ecution; striking vice irresistibly in
her strong-holds of dissipation, and
compressing the experience of a life
to a compendium of instructive ex-
ample. A curious anecdote is relat-
ed by Mr. Shee of these celebrated
pictures. The Marriage d-la-Mode,
it seems, found at the time no pur-

chaser among Hogarth's admirers,
and the artist was reduced to the
mortifying necessity of attempting
to procure by a raffle that reward
for his labours, which the generosity,
if not the justice of taste, ought to
have conferred upon him. But even
this expedient failed of success; the
prize was not sufficiently attractive
to excite the spirit of adventure, and
for a sum too contemptible to be
named a Mr. Lane, whose taste in
this instance was amply rewarded by
his good fortune, became the pro-
prietor of a work which merits to be
considered an ornament to the no-
blest collection.

The purchase of this collection
for the public is, we repeat, another
instance of his Majesty's taste and
munificence for the fine arts.

EXHIBITION OF PAINTERS IN WATER COLOURS.

The twentieth Exhibition of the
Society of Painters in Water Co-
lours is now open in the Gallery,
Pall-Mali East. Our artists can still
boast, as indeed they ought, national
pre-eminence in this department of
the fine arts, which is British in its
origin. The society, proud of the
distinction which it has so justly ac-
quired, has, since the salutary sepa-
ration of oil-paintings from its Exhi-
bition-room, devoted more than usu-
al zeal and assiduity to the perfec-
tion of the particular branch of art,
to the interests of which it exclusive-
ly professes to appropriate its peri-
odical Exhibitions ; and the conse-
quence has been an increase of pub-
lic attraction, and a more general
diffusion of water-colour paintings.
We now see scarcely an Exhibition
without them, and it would be sin-
gular if, in a collection formed as

this is, for the express purpose of
directing the attention of the public
to a national branch of art, we did
not behold the best specimens of our
ablest artists, and the most general
display of their combined proficiency.

The Exhibition of the present
year realizes all our most sanguine
anticipations, and although at this
season an unusual number of Exhi-
bitions devoted to the fine arts ar-
rest and strongly invite public at-
tention, yet we are satisfied, that the
Society for the Encouragement of
Water -Colour Paintings v. ill retain,
as it deserves, its share of general ap-
probation and adequate patronage.

The present collection is the most
miscellaneous which we remember,
and contains the greatest number of
good pictures by members of the so-
ciety. The variety is pleasing, and
is calculated to awaken and occupy

EXHIBITION OF TAINTKRS IN WATER COLOURS.

361

the attention of the most casual and |
languid lounger who saunters into ij
the Exhibition - room. The land- i;
scapes are really beautiful, and the ,j
familiar and still-life subjects are re- Ij
markably well finished* The list con- j
tains three hundred and six works.

We have this year a full share of (
the works of Messrs. Fielding, Var- ;
ley, Robson, Cox, Turner, Macken- !
zie, Pugin, Stephanoff, Cristall, Bar- '
rett, Prout, Wild, &c. &c. ; and the I
drawings are so arranged as to do
ample justice to the effect intended !
by the artists. We shall notice the j
names in the order in which we find
them in the catalogue.
Scene on the Clyde, near the Falls,
Lanarkshire. — G. F. Robson.

Mr. Robson is this year an abun-
dant contributor : amongst his best
are, Lincoln, which is a drawing of
great merit; the Durham, which is
a charming landscape; and the Scot-
tish Scenery, which conveys so fine
a delineation of the romantic views
of the north. In these works there
is a fine harmony of composition,
and all the effect of nature which
can be conveyed through the medi-
um of art.

Mountain Scenery, with Cattle. — -
R. Hills.

This ai'tist is also a most useful
and industrious member of this so-
ciety : his Landscape Scenery with
Deer is uncommonly fine ; the Park
Scenery with Fallow Deer, the Fal-
low Deer (No. 106), and similar
drawings, are the best finished we
have ever seen of these subjects :
they have the utmost perfection of
resemblance, with complete freedom
of execution. A Farm - Yard, by
the same artist, is also a very clever
drawing, and the colouring agreea-
ble and transparent.

Tintern Abbey, Monmouthshire. —
J. Varley.

Mr. Varley has contributed a va-
riety of works to this Exhibition,
British scenery, Grecian, Turkish,
Egyptian, and poetical, which com-
prises and combines them all. The
View of Cromer, Norfolk, and Holy
Island, and Bamborough Casth,
Northumberland, are very pleasing
and picturesque drawings in his best
style.
Beddgelcrt, Caernarronshirc. —
Copley Fielding.

We have, as usual, from this in-
dustrious artist his ample share of
drawings to sustain the reputation of
the society. The romantic and pic-
turesque character of his mountain
scenery, the depth and grandeur of
his- back-grounds, have been often
and justly praised, and are here fine-
ly illustrated in his View of Ben Lo-
mond, from Glen Falloch. The
View of Romney Marsh is very
pleasing; and the Morning Scene
from L 'Allegro is beautifully de-
scriptive of Milton's landscape image-'
ry: we have here

Mountains, on whose barren breast
The labouring clouds do often rest j
Meadows trim with daisies pied,
Shallow brooks, and rivers wide.

This drawing is highly creditable
to Mr. Fielding's poetical conception.
The Porter and three Sisters of
Bagdad. — J. Stephanoff.
A very pleasing composition from
the following passage in the " Ara-
bian Nights," which was well adapt-
ed for pictorial delineation :

" After they had eat a little, Amine filled
out wine, and drank first herself; then she
filled the cup to her sisters, who drank in
course as they sat ; and at last she filled it
the fourth time to the Porter, who, as he re-
ceived it, kissed Amine's hand ; and before
he drank, sung- a song to this purple: —
* That, as the wind brinK* along with it the

3 B 2

3(y2

EXHIBITION OF PAINTERS IK WATER COLOURS.

sweet scents of the perfumed places through
which it passes, so the wine he was going; to
drink, coining from her fair hands, received
a more exquisite taste than what it had of
its own nature.' "

There is a good deal of beauty of
expression in the countenance of
Amine, and the Porter is very well
drawn. The colouring throughout
is rich, and in Mr. StephanofFs usu-
al style. His Lord Chamberlain de-
puted by Henry VIII. to inform
Anne Boleyn of her Elevation to the
Rank of Marchioness of Pembroke,
is perhaps a better composition as a
portraiture of character ; and the
Interior of the House of Lords dur-
ing the late Queens Trial, is drawn
with much skill, so as to comprise a
pretty accurate view of that ceremo-
ny. The artist has obviously been
assisted, if not directed, by Mr. Hay-
ter's picture.

View of the Abbey Church of St.
Ouen at Rouen. — C. Wild.

Mr. Wild we believe exhibited
last year several architectural views
from our English cathedrals. He
furnishes this year some equally beau-
tiful from the most celebrated Con-
tinental churches. The architecture
is drawn with the greatest accuracy,
and the views are selected with such
attention to picturesque effect, that
they cannot fail to be generally ad-
mired. The florid Gothic in some of
these drawings is very finely exe-
cuted.

Early Morning on the Thames, near
Battersea. — D. Cox.
Mr. Cox has some good river
views in this Exhibition, and some
equally pleasing landscapes. Shep-
herds collecting their Flocks — Even-
ing—from Scenery in Herefordshire,
is a most elaborately composed draw-
ing; the verdure and foliage are un-
commonly rich.

Storm in Harvest. — G. Barrett.

This artist contributes his full share
to the stock of the society; there is
a powerful effect produced in this
tempest scene:

" The circling mountains eddy in,
From the bare wild, the dissipated storm,
And send it in a torrent down the vale."

There is much of grandeur in the
gloom which overshadows parts of
this drawing, and the sweeping ef-
fect of the storm is finely conceived.
The drawing of Evening is richly
poetical ; the glow of the setting sun,
the trees, the transparency of the
water in the fore-ground, are in the
true resemblance of nature. There
is a deep conception in the compo-
sition of Mr. Barrett's works, the
result of well-directed study and a
careful execution, which reflect upon
him the highest credit.

Munich, Bavaria. — S. Prout.
Mr. Prout is rich in this Exhibi-
tion, and sustains in an eminent de-
gree the just reputation which he
had previously acquired. His Con-
tinental views are the finest drawings
we have ever seen : that of Mu-
nich is one of the best topogra-
phic drawings ever executed: it is
full of pictorial character; the lines
of perspective are so skilfully drawn,
the monotony of the stone-colour so
tastefully relieved by the colour of
signs, the outhanging drapery, the
aerial tints, the shadows of project-
ing houses, and those cast by objects
of high architectural ornament; and
superadded to these beauties, the
bustling incidents of the market-place,
which fill up the fore-ground, che-
quered with the appearances of life
and animation which every where
denote a large and populous city,
make this, we repeat, a finished work.
The Dismasted Indiaman is also

PE1USTREPI1IC PANORAMA.

very well drawn; there is a depth of
tone in the colouring which deserves
the highest praise. Some of the
smaller topographic drawings are
very beautiful.

Bess and her Spuming- Wheel. —
J. Cristall.
This is a very interesting drawing;
the subject taken from some simple
pastoral lines by Burns. The rip-
pling of the water down the broken
and precipitous landscape has a very
pretty effect.
. Barnard Castle, Durham. — H.
Gastineau.
" The Moon is in her summer glow,
But hoarse and high the breezes blow,
And racking o'er her face, the cloud
Varies the tincture of her shroud ;
On Barnard's towers, 3nd Tees's stream,
She changes as a guilty dream."

Rokeby, Canto i.

Mr. Gastineau is this year very
successful; there is a soft and agree-
able tone in his drawings, which
possesses all the truth of nature: the
tints of moonlight in this drawing
are very beautiful.
The Inside of Westminster Abbe?/,

with a Royal Funeral Procession.

— F. Nash.

The architectural parts of this
drawing are well executed, and the
solemn glow of colouring equal to any
thing we have seen in subjects of
this kind, which are so susceptible of
grandeur of effect.

Middle Fall, Aysgarth, Yorkshire,

— J. D.Harding.

This is a most interesting and

pleasing landscape; the light and

aerial tints are very cleverly given.

Grapes. — Miss Byrne.
This lady evinces uncommon taste
in her colouring; her grapes have all
the bloom of nature.

Fruit. — Miss Scott.

Another very creditable drawing
from nature.

Among the other drawings which
display considerable proficiency are,
several by Mr. J. D. Harding, Mr. S.
Jackson, Mr. Nesfield, Mr. J. Wiche-
lo, Mr. W. Hunt, Mr. T. M. Wright,
Mr. R. H. Essex, and Mr .W.Walk-
er.

We cannot take this cursory glance
at the Exhibition, without repeating
the warm satisfaction which we de-
rive from contemplating the rapid
growth of water-colour painting in
this country : having watched it from
its infancy, and felt an early interest
in its success, we cannot behold, as
we now do, the full expansion of
its powers, the rank in art which it
has so properly assumed, and the ex-
tent, variety, and depth which it has
developed in all the essential attri-
butes of general art, without unmin-
gled gratification.

PERISTREPHIC PANORAMA.

A curious Exhibition, called Mar-
shall's Grand Historic Peristrephic
Panorama, is now open in Spring-
Gardens: it represents in twelve
views the Battles of Ligny, Quatre
Bras, and Waterloo. This pano-
ramic view is painted, they say, on
10,000 square feet of canvas; th* fi-

gures chiefly Z full size. There
are eleven different views, which are
exhibited to the spectator in succes-
sion, describing the various move-
ments of the armies in the short and
brilliant campaign of the Netherlands
in the summer of 1815. The me-
chanism by which the views are

LOW DON FASHIONS.

moved in succession is simple, and
the different paintings sufficiently
descriptive of the rapid and tremen-
dous events which they record. We
may say with the poet :

" And the whole war comes out and meets

the eye,
And each hold figure seems to live or die.
Each bent to conquer, neither side to yield,
They long suspend the fortune of the field.
Both armies thus perform what courage can,
Foot set to foot, and mingle man to man."

FASHIONS.

LONDON FASHIONS.

rilOMENADK DRESS.

Pelissi: of lilac gros de Naples,
made quite plain, fastened down the
front, and edged with a narrow cord-
ing of satin of the same colour: high
standing collar, rounded at the cor-
ners, and projecting outwards. The
sleeve large at the shoulder, and ta-
pering gradually to the wrist, where
it is finished with a sexangular cuff
and buttons, and a worked muslin
ruffle. The trimming is of the same
material as the pelisse, and is formed
into sextants by flat bands, with sa-
tin corded edges arranged perpen-
dicularly ; it approximates at the waist,
widens as it reaches the shoulder,
and also as it descends, till it unites
with the trimming that goes round
the bottom of the pelisse, which is
finished with a double rouleau of sa-
tin. Rose-colour bonnet of gros de
Naples, trimmed with the same, and
edged with folded ere joe lisse: bou-
quets of flowers are placed round
the crown between the silk trim-
mings; the bonnet bent in front a
la Marie Stuart, and tied under the
chin with rose-colour crepe lisse.
Cottage cap of British Mechlin lace,
with bows of rose-colour crepe lisse
on each side. Primrose-colour gloves ;
lilac kid shoes; green parasol, lined
with lilac.

ball Ditr:ss.
Dress of jonquil-colour silk barege,

; fancifully ornamented with satin bows
of the same colour: the corsage
made rather high: the stomacher of

! jonquil-colour satin, corded all round,
and laced in front ; it extends across
the top of the bust, and ends nearly
in a point at the waist, having bows
arranged all round at equal distan-
ces : on the shoulder is a double row
of satin puffing corded at the edges;
satin ceinture, with triangular leaves
formed into a rosette behind. The
sleeve is very short, and decorated
with satin bows, besides a net-work of
satin with ornamented knots at each
corner; it spreads over the top of
the sleeve, and tapers almost to a
point, where it unites with the dou-
ble satin band that goes round the
arm. The skirt has two rows of
silk barege about half a quarter
deep set on very full, and alternately
ornamented with satin bows and a
broad satin rouleau beneath. Tur-
ban of white crepe lisse, surmounting
a broad band of gold net, richly or-
namented with stars at each point,
and two gold tassels pendant on the
left side. Brilliant necklace of sap-
phire and diamonds; bracelets and
ear-rings to correspond. White kid
gloves; white satin shoes. French
silk scarf of cerulean blue, with em-
broidered lace ends.

•

flaa 3i

,■ r-

GENERAL OBSERVATIONS ON FASHION AND DRESS.

GENERAL OBSERVATIONS ON FASHION
AND DRESS.

Promenade costume has not al-
tered very materially since our last
notice. Spencers are rather more
in request with youthful fashionables;
but silk pelisses of light colours still
continue in favour, particularly for
the morning walk. Silk high dresses
also, though not so generally adopted
as muslin, are still fashionable for the
promenade: the black lace pelerine
scarfs so generally worn in Paris,
begin to be much in favour with
these dresses. Barege shawls and
scarfs are more in favour with white
gowns.

Leghorn bonnets are still much
worn in plain walking dress; but ca-
potes, both in cambric muslin and
gros de Naples, are more exclusively
adopted in the retired morning walk.
Their crowns are about the same
height as those of other bonnets,
but the brims are deeper; their only
trimming is a band of the same ma-
terial, pinked at each edge, and quil-
led at the edge of the brim in dents
de loup. They are generally worn
with a three-quarter veil.

Promenade dress and carriage
dress, which are in effect the same
thing, afford great variety. The
envelopes are black and white lace
mantles, white lace pelerine scarfs,
and scarfs of silk tissue of different
descriptions, but all of a very light
fabric. We have noticed also barege
shawls with a bouquet of flowers of
either gold or silver at each of the
four corners.

Transparent bonnets are beginning
to come into favour. They are com-
posed of crepe lisse, gauze, blond
net, and different sorts of metallic
gauze, and are always ornamented
with flowei's. These bonnets are in

general of a very becoming shape
and moderate size, short at the ears,
and not much bent over the forehead.
Flowers composed of the down of
marabouts continue in favour.

We have seen a new and very be-
coming hat or bonnet; for we hardly
know which to call it, its shape be-
ing rather equivocal. The crown is
low, of an oval form, and the brim
deep in front, but shallower at the
sides, and extremely shallow behind,
stands out a little from the face: it is
composed of either white or rose-co-
loured satin. The brim is lined with
crape of the same colour, and a very
light fancy trimming also of crape
finishes the edge of the brim. The
crown is adorned with wreaths of
marabouts, which go half way round
it in front: if the bonnet is white,
the feathers are rose-colour, and vice
versa; but the strings, which are
placed under the brim, are always the
colour of the bonnet.

Morning dresses in the robe style
begin to supersede in some degree
the blouse, though it is still in favour.
We shall endeavour to describe one
of the most tasteful of these dresses :
it is composed of jaconot muslin; the
petticoat is trimmed with a deep
flounce richlyembroidered, surmount-
ed by a fulness of clear muslin, form-
| ed into lozenges by easings of azure-
blue ribbon; the lozenges are at-
tached by blue rosettes. The cor-
sage made to the throat, but without
a collar, has a second front, which
slopes down at each side of the bo-
som, and just meets at the bottom
of the waist. The robe opens in front,
and, a little longer than the petticoat,
is richly embroidered all round, to
correspond with the flounce. The
back is full, the sleeves very wide,
and the epaulettes correspond with

366

fi\i:ncii female fashions.

the trimming of the petticoat. The
long sleeve is finished by a fall of
embroidery. Collarettes en bouil-
lonnee are mostly worn with these
dresses : they are an appropriate but
unbecoming appendage to morning
costume, as they totally spoil the ap-
pearance of the throat.

The cornette is going fast out of
favour in morning dress; even the
demi-cornette is not so much worn as
a small round cap : the caul is low,
but not unbecomingly so; it is gene-
rally ornamented with creves inter-
mingled with flowers or knots of
gauze ribbon : the head-piece is nar-
row, with a full laoe border and broad
gauze ribbon strings. We have seen

some of these caps, the caul of which
was a good deal in form of a shell,
and a small bunch of violets was
placed under the head-piece over the
right temple.

A very favourite trimming in even-
ing dress consists of a full roll of
gauze entwined with a plaited silk
band of three different colours, or
sometimes of three shades of the
same colour. Another trimming also
much in favour consists of a bouil-
lonnce divided into compartments by
bouquets of field-flowers.

Fashionable colours are, pale blue,
straw colour, lilac, rose colour, green,
amber, and cinnamon.

FRENCH FEMALE FASHIONS.

Paiiis, May 17.

My dear Sophia,

Notwithstanding the warmth
of the weather, white is not so much
seen in our promenades as is usual
at this time of the year, silk dresses
being upon the whole rather more
worn. Gros de Naples, gros dtt'c,
reps silk, and levantine, are all in fa-
vour. Silk dresses are generally
made tight to the shape, and the
long sleeve is also tight: a good many
have large round pelerines. Some
are trimmed round the bottom with
wreaths of trefoil in satin, to corre-
spond with the dress; there are two
and sometimes three placed at some
distance from each other. The pe-
lerine and the bottom of the sleeve
is adorned with a single wreath.
Another favourite style of trimming
is clusters of tucks, placed four, three,
and two together; the greatest num-
ber at bottom. Cockle-shells placed
between rouleaus are also in favour;
there are always two rows of this

kind of trimming. A good many
gowns are still made in the pelisse
style, and these are made to fasten
in front with hooks and eyes: they
are trimmed round the bottom with
a plaited silk band; the same kind of
trimming goes up the front, and is
adorned with knots of broad ribbon
placed upon it at regular distances.

The bodies of those gowns that
have pelerines are generally made
plain; those that have not are orna-
mented in the fan style; or if the
gown is trimmed with tucks, the bust
is finished with a stomacher to cor-
respond. The envelopes are always
of the lightest texture, barege shawls
or lace pelerines.

Rice-straw, cotton-straw, gauze,
crape, and gros de Naples, are all
in favour for hats; so is Leghorn,
provided that it is of the most extra-
vagant price. A good many hats
are composed of a mixture of gauze
and satin ribbons. The crown is
formed very much in the toque style ;

FASHIONABLE FURNITURE.

the brim is composed of alternate
iolds of gauze and satin ribbon. These
bonnets are worn without any orna-
ment; in fact they do not want it, from
the fanciful manner in which the ma-
terials are arranged upon the crown.
The crowns of hats are still low,
except those made in the toque style •
the brims are of a moderate and be-
coming size. Feathers are little worn
though we sometimes see them on
rice-straw or Leghorn; but flowers
intermingled with knots of satin or
of gauze ribbon are in much request
Lilac and white lilacs, Indian daisies,'
girojlee de Mahon, acacia of R0-
mainville, roses, and jessamine, are
all in favour, as also a number of
fancy flowers. The most fashionable
of these last are fleurs d I'Ourica,
which has a red cup with blue leaves .
it is composed of jays' plumes.

Peach and apricot blossoms are
also in favour, particularly for straw
or Leghorn hats. I have noticed on
some hats branches of the peach-
tree with blossoms, foliage, and small
green fruit; branches of the goose-
berry of the Alps are also worn, but
not generally.

White dresses with gros de Na-
ples spencers of light colours are
much in favour in half dress. Some !
are still made en blouse, others tight j
to the shape; the last are ornament- I
ed with brandenbourgs. j,

I Clear muslin blouses are now very
I fashionable in full dress; they are
i variously trimmed. The blouse d
FOurica is embroidered in silk of a
reddish yellow, in imitation of branch-
es of rough coral. Others have
branches of the acacia of Farnese
without flowers,in two different shades
of green, with a brown stalk. The
gooseberry of the Alps with its red
fruit and green foliage, and branches
of the vine with grapes of two co-
lours, are also fashionable. A mix-
ture of tucks and embroidery is like-
wise in request, as is also an embroi-
dery of rose-leaves with foliage of two
shades of green. But the newest
I style of trimming consists of double
j! S S, with peas between. There is a
[| great deal of variety in this style of
trimming, from the variety of forms
| in which the S S are placed.
j Among the new ornaments in jew-
i ellery is one fashionable only for very
j young people : it is a heart in gold
nlligree work, round which a serpent
1 is twined; it incloses a lock of hair,
|j and is suspended to a light and ele-
gant gold chain.

The colours most in favour are,
jonquil, Ipsiboe-green, Ourica (a red-
dish brown), violet, slate colour, dif-
ferent shades of blue, rose, and fawn
colour. Adieu ! Ever your

Eudocia.

FASHIONABLE FURNITURE.

DKAWING-ROOM TABLE, CIIAIKS, AND FOOTSTOOLS

These articles of furniture are
proposed to be executed in rose-
wood, and partially gilt; or the or-
namental work carved in satin-wood ;
both of which have a very rich and
decorative effect. The coverings of

Vol. III. No. XVIII.

the seats are of stamped velvet or of
silk, and the backs may properly be
stuffed and covered also. The fur-
niture executed by the late Mr. G.
Bullock was of this character and
style, and it is continued with much
3 C

368

IXTELLJQKNCE, LITK1UUY, SCIENTIFIC, &C.

round, and of oblong forms, a little
carved at the ends.

taste by the chief upholsterers of
the day.

The tables generally used are

INTELLIGENCE, LITERARY, SCIENTIFIC, &c.

Mr. Ackermann will publish in a few
days, in a pocket volume, with an ele-
gant frontispiece, Letters between Ame-
lia in London and her Mother in the
Country, from the pen of the late Wil-
liam Combe, Esq. the popular author of
the « Three Tours of Dr. Syntax."

W. Buchanan, Esq. has in forward-
ness at press, Memoirs of Painting, in
two vols. 8vo. : containing a chronologi-
cal history of the different collections of
pictures of importance which have been
brought to Great Britain since the French
revolution ; together with remarks, his-
torical and critical, on the art in general,
designed to assist the amateur in forming
a correct taste and judgment in regard to
painting, and to aid him in the know-
ledge of the genuine works of the great
masters.

Mr. Wolstenholme of York has in the
press, An Account of the Yorkshire Mu-
sical Festival held in September last, by
a member of the committee of manage-
ment. It will be preceded by a brief
notice of the abbey festivals, and of the
history of music subsequent to the pub-
lication of Dr. Burney's work, the ma-
terials for which are so widely scattered,
that any attempt to concentrate them
must be highly useful. The work will
be printed in royal 4to. and ornamented
with two elegant engravings of the inte-
rior of the Minster, and other plates. It
will be ready in J une.

Messrs. Todd of York will shortly
publish, an interesting Account of Sheriff"
llutton Castle, illustrated with four en-
gravings.

In the course of a few days will be
published, Excursions through Cornwall,
embellished with fifty high finished en-
gravings, from drawings by F. W. L.
Stockdale, Esq. late of the East India
Company's service.

Mr. Conrad Cooke will publish in
June, a new and complete System of
Cookery and Confectionery, adapted to
all capacities, and containing many plates.
This work is the result of thirty years'
experience in families of distinction, and
contains important improvements in the
art.

Early in June will be published, a Key
to the Science of Botany, comprising a
familiar and pleasing conversation be-
tween a mother and her daughter, by
Mrs. Selwyn. It will be illustrated with
plates, either plain or coloured.

The Wanderings of Lucan and Dinah,
an epic romance, in ten cantos, in the
stanzas of Spenser, by M. P. Kava-
nagh, will appear in the course of the
next month.

Mr. T. L. Busby's first number of the
Costume of the City of London, which will
be published in a few days, contains the
portrait of Sir Wm. Curtis, Bart, (father
of the city), in the Lord Mayor's costume.
The size is imperial folio.

369

INDEX.

Academy, Royal, premiums of, 60— exhibi-
tion of, 349

Adams, T. review of his Three Voluntaries,
116

Adventures of a heart, 220

Alfieri, anecdote of, 112

Allan, Mr. observations on a picture by, 356

Amusemens de i'Opera, review of, 240

Anecdotes, &c. historical, literary, and per-
sonal, 110, 162, 233, 343

Angerstein collection of pictures, catalogue
of, 358

Angoulenie, duke, theatrical celebration of
his return from Spain, 343

Antomarchi, Dr. his Last Moments of Napo-
leon announced, 60

Apparition of Woodstock, 323

Appeuzell, acuteness of the people of, 344

Argument, convincing, 344

Arnald, G. observations on pictures by, 179,
355

Arthur, J. review of his Serenada, 175

Arts, fine, 123, 177, 291, 349

Author, the hen-pecked, 276

Bajus, P. particulars respecting, 235

Ballad, 124

Banister, H.J. review of his " I saw while
the earth was at rest," 1 18— his " Lovo
wakes and weeps,'' 176

Barenger, J. observations on a picture by,
180

Baron the actor, anecdote of, 343

Barry the philanthropist, 337

Barton, Benaard, lines addressed to, 61 —
Expostulation, addressed to, 62

Batty, captain, his European Sceaery an-
nounced, 216

Beauty, noble exercise of the power of, 161

Beechy, Sir W. observations on pictures by,
351

Beethoven, L. von, some particulars of, 268

Benger, Miss, her Life of Elizabeth Queen
of Bohemia, announced, 186

Bennett, S. his The Temple of Ezekiel an-
nounced, 185

Beresford, the Rev. J. his the Cross and the
Crescent announced, 246

Birthdays, on the celebration of, 213

Blanchard, Mr. review of his " Le Depart du
Grenadier," 117

Bochsa, N. C. review of his " 'Tis not the
beam of a languishing eye," 53 — his " La
Chasse au Renard," 54 — his " Grand Rus-
sian March, ib. — his Airs in the Ballet of
t Alfred le Grand," 116— his Duet on the
Themes in " Clari, or tli-e Maid of Milan,"
117

Boie, Mr F. his curious account of a Norwe-
gian bishop, 44

Bone, Mr. observations on enamels by, 357

, S. V. observations on a pictureby, 179

Bonnell, Mrs. view of her seat, 63

Bookcase for a study, description of, 59

Bookbinder, the emigrant, 218

Bounden, J. his Deserted City, &c. announ-
ced, 60

Bowdler, Mr his edition of Gibbon's Histo-
ry of the Roman Empire announced, 310

Brecknock, T. remarkable instance of his in-
genuity, 75

Bree, chevalier van, observations on a pic-
ture by, 307

Briggs, H. P. observations on pictures by,
179, 352

Britannia Delineata announced, 185

Biitish artists, society of, 304

British Institution, exhibition of, 177

Brockedon, W. observations on a pictureby,
180— on a drawing by, 302

Brooke, captain, his Narrative of a Residence
in Norwegian Lapland announced, 246

Bruguier, D. review of his Five Divertimen-
tos, 114 — his Overture to " Maid Marian,"
115 — his Arrangement of Bochsa's Fan-
tasia, 238 — his Arrangement of Airs by
Bishop, 345

Buchanan, Mr. his Memoirs of Painting an-
nounced, 368

Bullock, Mr. his Six Months in Mexico an-
nounced, 186 — notice respecting his exhi-
bition, 246 — account of his collection from
Mexico, 291
Busby, Mr. his Costume of the City of Lon-
don announced, 368
Byrne, Miss, remarks on a drawing by, 363

Calcott, Mr. observations on a picture by,

355
Campeius, cardinal, anecdote of, 344
Caormina and Priomchial, 87
Carulli, F. review of his Forty easy Pieces, 55
Cassillis, earl of, view of his seat, 187
Castelli, V. review of his " In quel modesto

Asilo," 53
Ceaneach Macceaneach, 198
Cedars, British, 163
Chalon, H. B. observations on a picture by,

180

, J. J. observations on a pictureby,

180

Chantrey, F. observations on a statue by,
357

, N. observations on a picture by

180 *

Charlemagne, winter garb of, 110
Childe, E. observations on a picture by, 180

3 C 2

J70

INDEX.

Chinese cannibals, 111

Christmas part}', 35, 96

Christmas festivities in the South of France,

336
Church, the illuminated, at Neisse, iu Sile-
sia, 21
Clark, J. particulars respecting, 235
Clock, astronomical, description of, 309
Closet-window, the old bachelor's, 6
Clowes, C. esq. view of his seat, 251
Cockbnrn, major, observations on a drawing

by, 301
Coggins, J. review of his Companion to the

Musical Assistant, 238
Coincidences in dates, curious, 335
Collier, J. P. his translation of Schiller's

Fridolin announced, 310
Combe, Wm. letter from him to J. J. Rous-
seau, 205 — his Letters between Amelia and
her Mother announced, 36b
Complaints of a half-pay officer, 157
Collins, Mr. observations on pictures by, 352
Confession, auricular, 235
Confessions of a Rambler, 65, 127, 225, 278,

339
Cooke, Mr. his System of Cookeryannounced,

368
■■■ ' -, Mr. his exhibition of drawings, 299
Cooper, A. observations on pictures by, 301,

H55
Coquette, history of a, 72, 132
Corbould, H. observations on a picture by,
180

■ , P. observations on a picture by,

179
Country seats, views of, 1, 63, 125, 187, 249,

311
Cowper, W. his description of a public flog-
ging, 234
Cox, Mr. observations on drawings by, 362
— — , Sir R. keen composed on, 234
Cramer, J. B. review of his Fantasia, 237
Cristall, J. observations on drawings by, 301,

363
Cutler, W. H review of his " Aussitot que la
lumjere," 287 — his " Mary," a song, ib.
—his "Sweet Ellen, the maid of the Mill,"
288—his " C'estl'amour," 345— his " Love
and Friendship," 346— his " In Ballycrag
town," ib.
Cuvier, baron, his Animal Kingdom announ-
ced, 124

Dates, curious coincidences in, 335

Davy, J. review of his " Can I forget," 54

Peane, C. observations on a picture by, 180

Deduction, ingenious, 113

D'Epinay, Madame, her Memoirs announ-
ced, 60

Delaford Park, view of, 251

Dewint, P. observations on a picture by, 180
— on a drawing by, 302

Dibdin, Rev. T. F his Library Companion
announced, 186

Dighton, D. observations on a drawing by,
301

Diving- machine, account of Lethbridge's,
230

Dog, account of our belonging to the hospi-
tal on the Great St. Bernard, 337

Dogs, instances of the sagacity of, 203
Drawing-room tables, chairs, and footstools,

description of, 367
Dream, instance of a remarkable one, 139
Dressing-case, 123
Drilled goblins, 150
Dunamore, earl of, anecdote of, 168
Dussek, S. review of her " We're a noddin,"

55 — her Second French Air, ib.
Dutch Poets, Specimens of the, announced,

East Indies, dangerous species of nettle iu,
106

Eastlake, C. L. observations on pictures by,
178

Edinburgh, Four Views of, announced, 185

Edridge, H. observations on a drawing by,
301

Elizabeth, princess, view of her cottage at
Old Windsor, 1

Elopement, the consequences of, 145, 191,
264

Emigrant, the, a sketch from life, 165, 231

bookbinder, 218

Esmenard, M. anecdote of, 334

Etiquette of Florence, 163

Etty, W. observations on pictures by, 179,
355

Exhibitions — Panorama of the Ruins of Pom-
peii, 123 — the British Institution, 177 —
Mr. Bullock's Collection from Mexico, 291
— Mr. Cooke's Drawings, 299— Society of
British Artists, 304 — Grecian Gallery, 307
— Royal Academy, 349 — Painters in Wa-
ter Colours, 369 — Pcristrephic Panorama,
363

Fancourt, S. account of, 105
Farquhar, G. anecdote of, 114
Farr, Mr his Treatise on Scrofula announ-
ced, 60
Fashion and dress, general observations on,

56, 119, 181, 242, 365
Fashions for ladies, 55, 119, 181, 242, 308,

364
Fashions, French female, 58, 121, 183, 244,

366
Fashions, origin of, 113
Fathers, a lesson for, 251
Felsner, J. G. his remarkable preservation,

282
Female emigrant, presence of mind in a, 113
Fielding, C. observations on drawings by,

300, 361
Fine arts, 123, 177, 291, 349
Flaxman, Mr. observations on statues by,

357
Flea, elasticity of the, 163
Flogging-match, 234
Florence, etiquette of, 163
Fontenelle, anecdote of, 162
Fordyce,' Rev. Dr. J. anecdote of, 164
Forrest, lieutenant-colonel, his Picturesque

Tour of the Ganges and Jumna announced,

245
Fortification, ancient Welch, 165
Fvadelle, H. observations on pictures by,

179, 355

INDEX.

571

France, the south of, Christmas festivities in,

336
Fraser, A- observations on a picture by, 180
— — — , J. B. observations on a drawing by,

301
French bed, 185

French female fashions,58, 121, 183,244,366
French society, sketch of, 1 1
Friend, the unknown, 203
Frolicsome duke, the, 256
Furniture, fashionable, 59, 123, 185, 245,

309, 367
Fuseli, Mr. observations on a picture by, 355

Gael, on the preservation of the popular tra-
ditions of the, 31

Gaelic Relics, 84, 160, 198, 226

Gainsborough, Mr. observations on drawings
by, 302

Gambier, lord, view of his seat, 126

Gambling-house dinner at Paris, 152

Garrick, anecdote of, 111

Gastineau, Mr. observations on drawings by,
363

Gelinek, Mr review of his Variations, 115

Genius, condescension of, 111

George IV. Ceremonial of the Coronation of,
announced, 59

Germany, &.c. Views in, announced, 185

Ghost Stories, 21, 150, 223, 323

Gilly, Rev. W. S. his Excursion to the Moun-
tains of Piedmont in 1823, &c. announ-
ced, 185

Glass for a cabinet, description of, 245

Glover, J. observations on a picture by, 306

Goblins, the drilled, 150

Gouldsmith, Miss, observations on pictures
by her, 181

Grav, Thomas, monument to him at Stoke-
Pogis, 314

Grecian Gallery, exhibition of, 307

Green, J review of his Preceptive Melodies,
240

Guest, the self-invited, 111

(iraham, Mrs. her Voyage to Brasil announ-
ced, 246 — her Journal of a Residence in
Chili, ib.

Gretry, M. law-suit respecting his heart, 220

Half-pay officer, complaints of a, 156
Hall, captain B. his Journal written on the
Coasts of Chili, Peru, and Mexico, an-
nounced, 246
Hamond, E E. review of her Infant Vocal-
ist, 347
Harcourt, carl of, view of his seat, 125
Harding, Mr. remarks on a drawing by, 363
Harmony Society, account of, 24
Harris, J. M review of his " The charmed

bark," 1 17— his " My bonnie bark," 291
Hatfield, Miss S E. her Wanderer of Scan-
dinavia, &c announced, 246
Hats, fluctuations in the fashion of, 3
Havell, W. observations on a drawing by,

300
Haydon, B. R. observations on a picture by,

306
Heaphy, T. observations on a picture by, 306

Heart, the adventures of a, 220

Heber, Dr. his Life of Jeremy Taylor an-
nounced, 123

Hennan, Mr. on the human stature, 162

Henpecked author, 276

Henry IV. curious coincidences in the dates
of events of his life, 335

Herz, H. review of his " Ma Fanchette est
charmante," 51

Hibbert, Dr. his account of the apparition
of lady Lee, 223

Highlanders, a tale, announced, 60

Hills, R. observations on drawings by, 302.
361

Hilton, W. observations on pictures by, 178,
353

Hobday, W. observations on a picture by,
179

Hoffland, Mrs. her Decision, a tale, announ-
ced, 246

- — , T. C. observations on pictures by.
180, 306

Honour, points of, 88

Hopkinson, J. review of his Introduction and
Rondo, 175

Howard, H. observations on pictures by,
178, 351

Human stature, anecdote respecting, 163

Ingenious deduction, 113

Ingenuity, legal, remarkable instance of,

75
Insanity, singular instance of, 112
Intelligence, literary and scientific, 59,123,

185, 245, 310, 368
Intolerance, religious, remarkable instance

of, 282
Irvine, Mr. notice respecting a new work by

him, 60
Iver Grove, view of, 126

Jackson, Mr. observations on pictures by,

351
Jones, Miss E. observations on a picture by,

180
— —- , Mr. observations on a picture by, 352
Jouy, M. extract from his L'Hermite en

lialie, 321

Kalkbrenner, F. review of his Effusio Musi-
ca, 49

Kavanagh, his Wanderings of Lucan and
Dinah announced, 368

Krens, Irish, 2J3

Kiallmark, G. review of his Arrangement of
Cramer's Serenata, 50 — his " The Sea-
Boy's Call," 54 — his Second Divertimento
Scozzese, 115— his " Isabel," 290 — bis
" And ye shall walk in silk attire," 345

Krogh von Belsvaag, account of, 44
L.

Lacey, J. M. on To-morrow, 108 — his
thoughts on the arrival and celebration of
natal davs, 213 — Sorrow's Address to the
Poppy, 247

Ladies, London fashions for, 55, 119, 181,
242, 308, 364

, general observations on fashions for,
56, 119, 183, 242, 365

31 2

INDF.X.

Ladies, French fashions for, 58, 121, 183,

244, 366
Laufear, Mrs her Letters to Young Ladies

announced, 186
Language of Paradise, 344
Launay, Mademoiselle de, account of, 211
Lawrence, Sir T. observations on pictures by,

300, 349
Lawyers, the patron of, 110
Lea, river, lines addressed to, 310
Lee, lady, apparition of, 223
Lefanu, Miss A. her Memoirs of Mrs. F. She-
ridan announced, 124
Legal ingenuity, remarkable instance of, 75
Leslie, C R. observations on a drawing by,

302 — on a picture by, 353
Lesson for fathers, 251
Lethbridge, J. particulars respecting, 230
Lewis, Win. observations on a picture by,

179
Linton, W. observations on a picture by, 306
Lisbon and the Portuguese, account of, 46,

77, 143
Loiterer, the, 81, 189, 258
London fashions, 55, 119, 181, 242, 308, 364
Louis XIV. anecdotes of, 235, 344

Mackenzie, clan, primogenitor of the, 198

Mackildonich and the son of Alpin, 160

M'Murdie, J. review of his " The Lisle," 51
— his " Cum sancto spiritu," 176

Marial(->na,or the consequences of elopement,
145, 19.1. 264

Magic goblet, the, 331

Mariner, Mr. his account of the effect of writ-
ing on the king of the Tonga islands, 210

Martha the gipsy, 270, 314

Martin, J. observations on pictures by, 180,
305

Maxims, 338

Mayseder, Mr. review of his Divertimento,
50— his Twelve Waltzes, 241

Mazzinglii, J review of his " Scots wha' faae'
wi' Wallace bled," 51

Mecca, the temple of, 1 10

Mistake, the ludicrous, 197

Mitford, Rev. J. his lines addressed to Ber-
nard Barton, 61

Moliere's grave, 344

Monro, J. review of his " Send round the ro-
sy cup," 54 — his " Valce Royale," 116

Montague, the late duke of, frolic of, 257

Montpensier, Mademoiselle de, her court-
ship, 330

Moralt, J. A review of his Divertimento, 289

More, Hannah, portrait of, announced, 168

Morlacbi, Mr. review of his " Ah qual con-
cento," 53

Morland, G. observations on a drawing by,
302

Moscheles, portrait of, 55

Mourning, white, 164

Mulready, Mr. observations on a picture by,
354

Musical review, 49, 114, 172, 236, 286, 345

Nash, F. observations on pictures by, 180,
363

| Nash, J. his Views, &c of the King's Palace

at Brighton announced, 185
I Nasmvth, Mr. observations on a painting
by,' 356

Natal days, thoughts on the arrival and ce-
lebration of, 213
' Neele, H. his edition of Shakspeare an-
nounced, 186

Neisse, in Silesia, the illuminated church in,
21

Nettle, dangerous species of, in the East
Indies, 106

Newcastle, duke of, anecdote of, 197

Nightingale, J. C. review of his " Let us
haste to Kelvin grove, 52 — his Arrange-
ment of Caraffa's " Aure Felice," ib.

Nobleman, apprehension of one, on his own
warrant, 168

Norwegian bishop, account of, 44

Occupations, royal, in the sixteenth centu-
ry, 45

Old bachelor's closet-window, 6

Orleans, duchess of, her curious picture of
herself, 320

Oswald, lieutenant J. some account of, 236

Owen, Mr. observations on pictures by, 178,
301,352

-, R. D. his System of Education at New
Lanark announced, 60

Paradise, language of, 344

Pari*, the shops of, 41 — gambling-house din-
ner at, 152

Parke, Mrs. her Domestic Duties announced,
310

Parry, John, review of his " Oh! minstrel,
that impressive strain!" 118 — his " A
lover'- eyes can gaze an eagle blind," 290
— his "Only love, my love, the more," ib.

Parting, the, 129

Patron of the lawyers, 110

Patten, W. jun observations on a painting
by, 356

Pelling-place, view of, 63

Penu, John, esq view of his seat at Stoke-
Pogis, 311

, William, his treaty with the Indians

of Pennsylvania, 313

Peristrephic panorama, 363

Phillips, Mr observations on pictures by, 351

Pickersgill, Mr. observations on a picture
by, •)oii

Picture of a princess by herself, 320

Pilgrim's tale, lines to the author of, 186

Pinna, J. de, review ofhis British and Foreign
Airs, 286

Poetry, 61, 110, 124, 186, 247, 310

Points of Honour, 88

Poissarde silenced, 112

Politician, the skilful, 334

Pompeii, panorama of the ruins of, 123

Poole, Mr review of his " Return unto thy
rest," 347— his " Regna il Terror," ib.

Pope, Mrs. observations on a drawing by, 302

Portuguese and Lisbon, account of, 46, 77,
143

INDKX.

57.1

Totter, C. review of his " Crutla Sorte," 54
Presence of mind in a female emigrant, 113
Professor, the, and the turnpike-gate, 344
Prophecy, the, announced, 185
Trout, Mr. observations on drawings by, 3G2
Purkis, John, review of his Airs from Ros-
sini's " La Donna del Lago," 174

Rambler, the confessions of a, 65, 127, 225,
278, 339

Raw lings, T. A. review of his " The I'orest-
ers," 114— his Divertimento, 290

Recollections of an eventful life, extract
from, 129

Reinagle, Miss H. observations on pictures
by, 180

, O. G. remarks on a picture by, 179

Remarkable dream, 139

Reynolds, S. W. observations on a drawing
by, 301

Rhine, timber rafts on the, 162

Richelieu, cardinal de, character of, 13(5

Richter, H. observations on a picture by, 306

Ries, F. review of his Twelfth Fantasia, 236
— his Rondo on Bishop's Air, " When in
disgrace," 289

Rimbault, S. F. review of his Arrangement
of Rossini's Overture to " Matilde e Cor-
radino," 172 — his Adaptation of Mozart's
Grand Symphony, 174 — his Select Italian
Airs, 175 — his French Romances, ib — his
Spanish Bolero and Waltz, ib — his Over-
ture for the Piano-forte, 347 — his Arrange-
ments of Rossini's Overtures to " Native
Land," " Zelmira," and " 11 Barbiere di
Siviglia," 347, 348— his Arrangement of
Beethoven's Grand Symphony, 348— his
Rudiments to the Piano-forte, ib.

Robson, Mr. observations on paintings by,361

Rogers, Adam, his remarkable dream, 139

Rossi, Mr. C. observations on a bas-relief
by, 358

Rossini, portrait of, 55 — some account of,
74 — review of his " Serenely o'er the wa-
ters dark," 1 1 8 — his Overture to the Opera
of Otello, 241

Rousseau, J. J. letter to, 205

Royal Academy, premiums of the, 60— ex-
hibition of, 349

Rymer, Thos. de, oracular saying of, 163

St. Leonard's Hill, view of, 125
St. Margaret's, view of, 187
Savendroog, the exploits at, 31, 68
Sayings and Doings announced, 186 — ex-
tracts from, 270, 314
Scott, Miss, remarks on a drawing by, 363
Sefton, earl of, view of his seat, 2
Selection of Airs, Sec. by foreign composers

reviewed, 240
Selwyn, Mrs. her Key to the Science of Bo-
tany announced, 368
Senetaire, Madame de, anecdote or, 161
Severn, T. review of his " How all is still

around me," 288
Shee, Mr. i\I. A. observations on pictures

by, 351
Sheriff Huttou Castle, Account of, aunounc-
ed, 368

Singleton, H. observations on a picture bv,
180

Skottowe, A. his Life of Shakspeare an-
nounced, 310

Slochd Altrinan, or the Nursing Cave, de-
scription of, 262— legend of the, 326

Society of British artists, 304

Solar company, address of the, 215

Soliloquy on the approach of winter, 124

Songs, selection of, from German operas, re-
viewed, 53

Southey, R. his Tale of Paraguay announ-
ced, 246

Spar Cave, in the Isle of Sky, description of,
262— legend of the, 326

Spix and Martins, Drs. translation of their
Travels in Brazil announced, 216

Staal, Madame de, account of, 211

Statue of Peter the Great, 163

Steil, W. H. review of his Arrangement of
Bishop's Introduction and Air de Ballet,
237

Stephartoff, Mr. observations on pictures
by, 353, 361

Stewardson, J. observations on a picture by,
179

Stockdale, Mr his Excursions through Corn-
wall announced, 368

Stoke Farm, view of, 2

Stoke-Pogis, view of, 311

Sto'rie, G. H. esq. his Mountain Rambles
announced, 185

Storm, the, a fragment, 247

Stothard, T. observations on pictures by,
300, 352

Stranger grave, the, 160

Sunbeams, concentrated, project for pro-
ducing, 215

Tales and Sketches of the West of Scotland
announced, 123

Tales of Irish Life announced, 186

Taliesin, anecdote of, 165

Tennant, C his Tour through Holland, &,c.
anno' need, 60

Thorv on, J. bis Milburn's Oriental Com-
merce announced, 124

Thousand and one Nights, complete Collec-
tion of, announced, 186

Tic douloureux, 95

Timber- rafts on the Rhine, 162

To-morrow, 108

Toujours lidele, asketch of French society, IX

Tudor Vaughan ap Grono, anecdote of, 165

Turkish manufactures, 164

Turner, J M. W. observations on a drawing
by, 300

Unknown friend, the, 203

Uwins, T. observations o-n a drawing by, 301

Varley, Mr observations on drawings by, 361
Views of country seats, 1, 63, 125, 187, 249,

311
Vivalda, count, 321

Vocal Anthology, review of, 52, 117, 176, 2X8
Voight, A. review of his" County Guy," 177

374

INDKX.

"HE.

Waltzes, selection of, reviewed, 349

Wanstead-House, view of, 249

Ward, M observations on pictures by, 301,
350

Was it so twenty years ago ? 156

Water-colour Exhibition, notice respecting,
310— review of, 3G0

Watts, A. A. his Poetical Sketches announc-
ed, 186

Wellcsley, W. P. T. L. esq view of his late
seat, 249

Westall, R. observations on pictures by, 180,
300, 355

Wiffen, Mr. his translation of Tasso an-
nounced, 310

Wild, Mr. observations on drawings by, 3C2

Wilkie, D. observations on pictures by, 302,
353

Wilkins, Mr. observations on a drawing by,
302

Williams, P. observations on a drawing by, 301

Wolf, affection of one, 103

Woodstock, apparition of, 323

Wright, T. his Life of Richard Wilson an-
nounced, 310

Writing, notions of uncivilized nations re-
lative to, 210

Yorkshire Musical Festival, Account of, an-
nounced, 368

END OF THE THIRD VOLUME.

- \vj

Printed by L. Harrison, 373, Straud.

Internet Archive Audio

Featured

Top

Images

Featured

Top

Software

Featured

Top

Texts

Featured

Top

Video

Featured

Top

Mobile Apps

Browser Extensions

Archive-It Subscription

Save Page Now

Full text of "The Repository of arts, literature, commerce, manufactures, fashions and politics"

See other formats